100 Events Between Us
by Religion0
Summary: "Riza had just barely stroked his cheek with two fingers to feel for the acclaimed "fuzz of manhood", Roy had returned the gesture before she could say something sarcastic." /Royai 100/rating might be T for individual chapters/Halfway/
1. Military Personnel

**I can't promise anything in the way of finishing this, ever, but I still thought it might be fun to try… So here's my version of the Royai 100. =) Hope you enjoy it.**

**1: Military Personnel**

Colonel Roy Mustang sat one day with a chess piece in his hand, stopped in the middle of setting up a game for no apparent reason. The pawn in his hand was made of smooth, white tree, further smoothened by many times of handling during the many games he had enjoyed with Lieutenant General Grumman.

It was a beautiful piece, with a quiet, simplistic, majestic elegance that few chess pieces managed to posses, no matter what particular set they came from. Then again, it wouldn't have mattered if this pawn had been the singularly most gaudy in existence, he would still have loved the pieces. Held them as dear as anyone ever can a board and pieces they've lost more games with than they've won.

Depends on who gave one the board and pieces, of course.

"Sir," Lieutenant Hawkeye's voice broke into his thoughts. "Is there a reason you've made ready for a game?"

"Ah, yes, as a matter of fact. I was wondering if I could talk you into taking a game with me? I do believe you've never had the pleasure of putting these pieces into play…" He stopped himself just short of reminding her of the fact that she had bought them.

Hawkeye seemed to waver a bit, as if unwilling to pick up the pieces. Then she finally nodded. "Very well, sir, although it would be beneficial to finish the paperwork first."

So it came to be, that the two sat at the Colonel's desk late that evening, carefully making their moves, both trying to avoid sacrifices as much as possible.

"What were you thinking of earlier?" Riza asked quietly, to avoid ruining the soft atmosphere. "While you were setting the board?"

"That the pieces are military personnel of a different time, but are essentially the same as us," Roy answered just as quietly, somewhat reluctantly taking one of Riza's rooks. "Soldiers are just pieces on a board… This is one of the oldest games in the world, you know? Apparently it's name has some connections to the old Xerxesian word for 'king'…"

**'Xerxesian' sounds stupid, but review and tell me what you liked/disliked.  
**


	2. Gunshot

**I must be motivated.**

**I forgot to say so in the last chapter, oops, so I'd like to say it now: I don't FMA. If there comes a change in status, I'll tell you.**

**2: Gunshot**

The first time Riza had fired a gun, she had almost laughed out loud.

Not because it was fun to shoot, although it had been exhilarating, or for pleasure at her natural skill, but because it was so _loud_. She had always pictured death as a void, soul-sucking, all-encompassing silence.

Yet it was delivered so _noisily_, so very _brashly_.

It was a hilarious contrast.

With time the humour faded, as she realized that it fit with the rest of the process of death by gunshot. Racket before eternal quiet, pain before perpetual numbness, a flash of light before ceaseless darkness, recoil before never moving again.

Gunshots signified death.

* * *

Never mind that he had actually shot people, never mind that pretty much whenever he heard a gunshot someone died, never mind any of that, for Roy the sound of gunshots meant _life_. It meant that he would get a few more moments of life granted to him by his guardian angel and that his guardian angels was _alive_.

**'Brashly' sounds like a name. A stupid and ugly name, but whatever.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.  
**


	3. Battlefield

**Huh, this is going incredibly strong… Let's see just how far I can carry this, shall we? **

**3: Battlefield**

"YES!" Roy declared at the top of his lungs, his cry of victory resounding far and wide, making thirteen year old Riza give him a worried glance, before looking back down at the checkers board. "I WIN! YES!"

"You can calm down now, mister Mustang, I think even the Xingese have heard that you won this game," she told him calmly, still giving the boy a somewhat nonplussed look.

"You just say that because you lost!" Roy replied, doing a happy dance, which only earned him a long, flat look. "And because you know I will again and again!" By now, he was singing horribly off-key. "Your domination of victory in our games is over!"

"Willing to bet, mister Mustang?" Riza asked, rising to the challenge.

"You know I am! If you win, I will do anything you ask of me. If I win, you'll give me a kiss."

Silence descended over the pair in a cold embrace that seemed to freeze even the balmy summer air. "All right," Riza, somewhat grudgingly gave after a long while.

"Great, let's set to it!" With a fervour that seemed all out of proportion to Riza, Roy set about rearranging the pieces, a huge grin plastered over his lips. "I am so gonna win!"

For once, Riza wasn't too focused on the game at hand, but rather trying to figure out why ever mister Mustang would place a bet like that.

If Roy had at all concentrated on anything but the play-pretend battlefield before him, he would have noticed that Riza was looking at him with eyes that were somehow different from normal… They were softer, darker, gentler than normally. They were seeing right through him.

"Your turn," he reminded her, after he had waited half a minute for her to make a move. He looked up just as he spoke, thus managed to catch the look she was giving him, seeing even the subtle puzzlement in her eyes.

"Right, sorry," shaking her head, Riza turned her gaze upon the board. She ought to concentrate or Roy would think she really wanted to lose. For the sake of her pride, that was completely unacceptable.

**And I'll leave it at that. Hope you like open endings. =D Although I personally think it's fairly obvious Roy will get his kiss…**

**I know most people would probably have taken the prompt 'Battlefield' a bit more literally, but I really don't feel like writing in a war setting. I try to avoid those.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^  
**


	4. Grave

**Hi! =) You might get very tired with me very soon… Although I hope you won't! D=**

**I probably won't go conventional with this prompt. ;-)**

**4: Grave**

"You look unusually grave today, Lieutenant," Colonel Roy Mustang commented during a train ride as he watched First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye slowly, carefully and deliberately clean her gun. "What's the occasion?"

"Interesting choice of words, sir," Hawkeye responded, not looking up from the task at hand.

When the silence carried on, Mustang cocked an eyebrow. Normally Hawkeye would have made some self-ironic joke about always looking stoic, so how could he tell the difference? "And why is that, Lieutenant?" he prodded, watching the woman intently so as to not miss even the tiniest flicker or indicator of what she felt if she should choose to hide it.

"It's the anniversary for my father's funeral," Hawkeye responded, finally looking up. "Which is why it was an interesting choice of words."

"I can see the irony in it, yes…" Mustang leant forward, supporting his weight with his arms on his legs. "I'm sorry."

"For what, sir?" Hawkeye queried, smiling thinly. "You're not at fault."

"Maybe not… But I'm sorry you have to feel sad at all."

"Sadness is just one of those things that make us human, isn't it?" The grave atmosphere cloyed the air, making it difficult to breathe.

"You're right. But I'm still sorry."

A matching pair of tight smiles crossed their faces yet again, lifting the sombre mood somewhat.

**As I said, a somewhat a somewhat unconventional approach. Most people actually take this as meaning 'tomb' or 'death' and doesn't even approach the mood.**

**Please review and tell me of what you liked/disliked. ^_^  
**


	5. Heiki Weapon and Heiki Fine

**I'm on the greatest roll ever! Why won't I stop? T_T**

**5: Heiki (Weapon) and Heiki (Fine)**

My name is Roy Mustang. I am a human weapon.I don't mind, it was, after all, my own decision. Although I may not have made the choice if I knew what it meant, I'm not so sure it wasn't for the better in the long run. Some of the best things to ever happen to me happened because of the military.

Not the best, mind, that happened long before the military.

I am lucky, in a way, because I still have that part of my life with me, a reminder of that time… I am however also unlucky for the same reason, for she is in the military with me.

I became a human weapon to serve and protect the people of Amestris. Yet, as a dog of the military, I've done more harm than good for the people.

Even so, from here I can help. I could withdraw if I really wanted to. But if I make it to the top, I can, perhaps, fulfil my naïve, idealistic goal.

My name is Roy Mustang. I am a human weapon and I'm just fine with that.

**I just really wanted to make that punch line, but wasn't sure how to get to it… In the end, I was so tired I was barely aware of what I'm writing at all! XD **

**Please review and tell me what liked/disliked! ^_^**


	6. Death

**I'm really hard-pressed to not make this one sad somehow… How the hell can I manage that?**

**6: Death (See what I mean?)**

Soldiers aren't supposed to be afraid of death. Not that of their enemies, not that of their comrades (despite being encouraged to feel something like unity), not their own. But since when did anyone care about what they were 'supposed' to feel? In the middle of a war, you felt chaos, guilt, pain, anger, outrage, fear, homesickness, sadness followed by either insanity or numbness in an attempt to keep insanity at bay.

Except for those unholy few who actually enjoyed killing, enjoyed the sounds of battle, enjoyed death.

Those few scared everyone else, except those that had gone numb. As a general rule, they were condemned and despised by everyone else, more often than not, the soldiers in their own battalion would more often than not be among the harshest in way of shunning, some even going as far as applying torture.

The very few who were simulating pleasure in an attempt to keep themselves sheltered were easily recognizable, for they had no appetite either, unlike those who like their job.

_"You should know what being a soldier meant, wasn't that why you joined the army?"_ The insane ones where the only ones who could still talk their way out of anything at all.

Going numb was almost as scary as dying. And every bit as tempting. It took real effort and conscious thought to keep from giving into the temptation; going numb, meant to let what defined one as a person die.

Friends strove to keep friends alive by laughing and fighting with them. The latter often backfired.

Soon after meeting Hawkeye in the war, Roy took it upon himself to keep her from falling into numbness.

**So… Doesn't make too much sense, does it? Doesn't even sound particularly Royai-ish… ^^; Oops…**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. =)**


	7. Crime and Punishment

**Yaaaaaaaaaaaay! I've been looking forward to this prompt, and I haven't the faintest idea why! =D I am so stupid like that!**

**7: Crime and Punishment**

"You're _ticklish_?" Roy asked, gaping at Riza, who somewhat unsuccessfully tried to hide the huge smile sewn across her face, while trying to stifle a few rogue giggles, that hadn't realized the contact had stopped a long time ago.

"Well… Yes," Riza replied, having calmed her giggling enough to do so. Her nerves, sensitive to touch due to lack of same, still tingled pleasantly, sending small shocks of wannabe-laughter to the pit of her stomach. "So it would seem." Not that she had ever noticed, since no one ever tickled her.

No one had this time, either, as Roy had only accidentally stroked her arm in passing. Or rather, his soft, light woven cotton sleeve had, which had sent the normally distant child into a fit of giggles and chuckles that was wholly uncharacteristic of her.

"You're _ticklish_?" Roy repeated, completely astounded at the revelation.

"I thought we'd already had this conversation, mister Mustang," Riza replied, still smiling slightly in spite of herself.

"You're ticklish!" Roy then proceeded to declare, smiling hugely. Which was reason to worry, and for good reason. While Roy was a whole lot more generous with his smiles than any other person in the Hawkeye household, he rarely grinned like that. Unless he knew something that he could use to get much fun out of, like when he'd found some small quirk in alchemy he could use to surprise his master with his intelligence and studiousness.

Or had found an excellent way to tease Riza, one of his favourite hobbies. If not his very favourite.

"How worried ought I be?" Riza asked nervously, if only slightly, as the short bout of laughter still hadn't quite left her body. That, and she knew Roy would answer honestly.

"Not very much," Roy responded, waving a hand dismissively, dimming his smile somewhat, only to let it brighten the moment Riza turned her back. "For now, at least."

"You're overworking me, Hawkeye," Colonel Mustang grumbled, glaring at the large stack of paperwork accumulating on his desk, slowly but surely. "Surely there is something like cruelty in this…?"

"I am not overworking you, sir," Lieutenant Hawkeye responded readily, handing the deflated man another few pages. "Your laziness and the military do."

"I'm sure some of the blame can be pinned on you…" Roy drawled, smirking mischievously at her. The others had gone home for the day? Check. Night was descending and the rest of the building shrouded in darkness? Mostly check, a few other windows glowed from within, but they were scattered far and wide. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You're ticklish," he reminded her gently, smile widening as he saw her shoulders tense suddenly and her gaze turn laboriously towards him.

"This feels familiar," she murmured. "Haven't we had this conversation once before?" Honestly, she was quite sorry she had taken her coat off when the rest of the office had gone home, despite the added comfort it had provided at the time. Her sensitive forearms could certainly use the extra protection. Putting the coat back on now, though, would only prove counter-productive, as the mere thought of being tickled had only heightened their sensitivity to touch. Tremendously, at that.

Moving with all the swift, silent grace only wild animals and killers could develop, Mustang suddenly leant on his Lieutenant's desk, a hand hovering just a scant distance from her arm, catching and holding her just slightly frightened gaze. This was going to be _fun_!

Riza made a small whining sound in the back of her throat.

**I used to have a classmate who thought there was nothing better than tickling me. And that it would be just so much easier if I weren't on my feet. Except that then I kicked, and the tables more or less went flying. **

**I miss him. ^_^**

**Anyway, when I originally started writing this, Roy was drunk. Then I decided that since I'd never spent any time with drunk people (slightly inebriated at worst), that'd be a bad idea. Then Hawkeye (that is a cool name) suddenly got ticklish.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**

**Shameless self-promotion, by the way, I'm getting perhaps the cutest puppy ever (heavily biased, I know, don't care) and have posted many pictures of her on my deviantart page. Link on my profile orelse I have the same penname as here. **

**Just in case you're in the mood for something adorable.**


	8. StoreLined Streets

**DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER! It's bad, and I'm working it over in my mind as you read this. Skip it, please. Read at your own risk.**

… **I'm at a loss.**

**8: Store-Lined Streets**

One cold (really cold, cold, cold,cold, cold, _cold_, damn it) late fall afternoon, Roy Mustang wandered aimlessly through the shopping district, with its large windows and highly visible signs proclaiming the stores' merchandise, sometimes relieved by a merchant doing the proclaiming himself or a modest store, who either didn't feel the need to announce their existence or just couldn't be bothered.

It was those last who caught his attention, although they rarely held it for long. Then he stumbled, placed a hand on the wall beside him to help keep his balance. Except that it wasn't a wall, but a window, beyond which was, apparently, a jeweller. At least according to the small, neat script in one corner of the glass and the modest collection of jewellery beneath his palm.

Roy smiled slightly, eyes immediately lighting upon a simple silver necklace with an amber pendant. It would really compliment her eyes…

With a shake of his head, Roy continued on down the street. It may compliment her, she may be grateful for the gift and wear it often, if not constantly, but it wouldn't be right or even visible. She'd need to hide a gift like that. No, he should rather find something more… Practical. A blanket?

**I warned you. **

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.**


	9. Before We Knew Each Other

**Almost a tenth of the way and no reviews yet? Marduk, my self-esteem doesn't need this… Oh yeah, 'tis set before Maes died. Not sure when, but before that.**

**9: Before We Knew Each Other**

"What were you like before we met?" Roy asked one day, one arm securely wrapped around Riza's stomach, the other used to control the book he was reading, both his legs were thrown across one of the armrests of the armchair the pair reclined in. Sporadically, he'd bury his nose in her golden locks.

"Much the same as when and immediately after we met, why?" Riza responded, snuggling back against Roy's chest, eyes still trained on the book in hand.

"Something Maes said to me, about you treating me like I was the reason anything good enough to give you self-confidence had ever happened…" Roy paused, giving the ceiling a thoughtful look. "Then he started ranting about me needing a wife."

Riza chuckled at that. "I hope he never discovers about my father… He'd try to foster me!"

"Try to foster you? Oh no, he'd pull you into a violent hug, bawl his eyes out, tell you that that's the saddest thing he's ever heard, then he would baby you, perhaps go on an all-out head-hunt for your father, and would then somehow manage to adopt you!" Roy paused, in part to get his wind back, in part to let the giggles subside. "Then he would never, ever let us cuddle like this again."

Riza, unable to stop giggling, turned to hide her face in Roy's chest. "Then we better make sure not to tell him."

A long time later, after even the residue sniggering had stopped, Riza turned back to her book and Roy raised his again, ready to drop the subject. "Although it would be nice to have a father…" the woman whispered wistfully.

Roy contemplated this information for a while, then sighed. "I'll have to agree with you. I was raised by my aunt and her daughters. Haven't really told Maes that either."

"Same reason?"

"The exact opposite, actually. He'd be pressing women down my throat faster than I'd have a chance to digest," Roy grimaced. "When he got a whiff of us, which he indubitably would, he'd somehow manage to have us married within fifteen minutes, damn the fraternization law, but would then proceed to never leave us alone.

"Riza chuckled. "What a mess our past before we knew each other, mixed with your choice of friends, could create…"

The two returned to their reading at that, hearts just that bit lighter. Although Roy refrained from mentioning that he'd never have had a chance with Riza if not for her sorry excuse for a father. If they liked him, women tended to choose men that reminded them of their father.

**True fact, that last bit. Women are more attracted to men who resemble their father somehow, although mainly when they had a healthy relationship, unlike the Hawkeye's.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^ Or I will be sad. =(**


	10. Promise

**I'm being prolific! =D Go look at my puppy. =(**

**10: Promise**

"Can you sing?" Roy asked one day, trying to crawl even further beneath his comforter. A rather nasty flu had settled well and deeply into the Colonel's throat and chest.

Riza looked up from the meagre pile of papers she had brought to not make a complete waste of her visit at the rather pathetically croaked inquiry. "Everyone can, to some degree," she held up a hand to stall any questions that might have been voiced otherwise. "I'm not very good, though, mediocre at best."

"Will you sing for me?" Roy then croaked, reaching out towards her, but stopping before his arm truly left the bed. His eyes, widened by illness-induced fear and pain gave a childish cast to his features that he should have outgrown years ago. His dry lips and pale skin made him look vulnerable and small both, as the sweat making his hair stick to his forehead made him look lost and confused.

Riza smiled gently, a bit sorry she had to say what she was about to say. "Sorry, sir, but no. Maybe another time."

"Promise?" he withdrew his hand and closed his eyes, hoping to hide some of his disappointment, although it was mostly because he was really just too tired to look at anything, no matter how much he wanted to. His eyes became sore as the light reflected into them, and his head ached as it processed the information it was fed.

Or something like that. It hurt to think too much of anything.

"I promise. I can hum a bit, though, until you've fallen asleep. Does that sound well enough, sir?" She hadn't planned on making that offer, but she couldn't see any harm to it. And he really did seem as if he could use some maternal treating.

The relief of his smile paid for the slight loss of dignity she would have to pay.

**Before anybody asks (yeah right, no one ever reviews… Except for that one review that wasn't a review), I hadn't the faintest idea what I was heading into. Normally, I hate these stories where one's sick and the other comes to take care of the other, especially when they have a subordinate/superior relationship like this…**

**So I do NOT like this chapter. Hope some reader likes it though… Not that anybody ever tells me anything. =(**

**PLEASE review and tell me of what you liked/disliked.**


	11. Liar

**Almost no one have reviewed these past ten chapters (some of them suck, but you could still tell me that.) So, I'm going to have to tell you that this story has just above a thousand hits. Two reviews. Some of you come back to read new chapters, some of you just skim by to read this, possibly only to find out what the prompts are. But can't you throw in a comment in one or two that deserves some especial attention?**

**Hope you enjoy, despite my rant.**

**11: Liar**

"They're all liars," Colonel Roy Mustang grumbled irately, glaring sullenly at the glass in front of his nose. It seemed to contain wine, but it was nothing more harmful than berry juice. "Every single one of them!"

"If you say so, sir," replied Lieutenant Hawkeye, peeling an apple.

"I say so, Lieutenant! I say so!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, which only served to earn him a bemused glance. "Why are you peeling your apple? All the vitamins are in the peel."

"So I've heard," Hawkeye replied, shrugging slightly. "I've also heard that, apparently, there are a lot of poisons on the peel, that never penetrates into the actual apple."

"That's ridiculous."

"So is the thought that the only good part of an apple is its peel."

"Now you're just being contrary for no good reason."

"Most certainly, sir. You were saying?"

"Well, that they're all liars. All those darn politicians and whatnot. All liars."

"Isn't that part of the job description?"

"Why, was that a joke I just heard?"

"Surely not, I have no sense of humour. Everyone knows that." Hawkeye smiled just a little. It was common 'knowledge' that she had no sense of humour among the general population, and was as such a common joke among those who knew her better than that.

"Can I have the peel if you won't eat it, then?"

"Sure, go ahead. I can't see the charm of it, though."

"What, you don't like crunch?"

"What kind of abstract concept is 'crunch'?"

"The texture of apple peel, obviously." Mustang managed to eat the apple peel with an exaggerated amount of movement, stopping halfway through to make his statement.

"Oh. Well, in that case, no. I do not care particularly for crunch."

"But it's good for you!"

"A lot of things are good for me, it would seem."

"Yes, yes! And you should take good care of yourself. It won't do for you to suddenly get sick and leave me with all the-"

"You were about to say something about the work, sir?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh, good you said so! It reminded me that you really should get back to work. Now." She levelled him with a stern glare, daring him to refuse. They had let themselves hide away for long enough. They might start to believe in the lie they had spun for themselves.

"All right, all right! I'll get to it."

**Now, review!**


	12. Proof

**Sorry about last chapter's rant. And bluntness. But it worked once before, in another story, so I thought I'd try again. **

**12: Proof.**

Everyone needs proof, once in a while, that they're not alone, that they are loved. Even the tightest knit of couples and the best of friends needed that sometimes. A small gesture might be enough, a flower placed in a strategic place, a dropped word or two, a continuation of a shared joke, the touch of a hand… Anything, really.

Some had the luxury to always express their feelings, such as Maes Hughes, but most couldn't. Some for fear it would overwhelm their loved ones, some because they hadn't the energy, some because they arrogantly thought that they didn't need it, some because they couldn't.

Couldn't? Why yes, couldn't! No, not because they don't know what to do, they probably have everything they could possibly do written down on a continuously growing list. They couldn't because it would cause trouble, or worse, would inflict punishment upon their loved one. Or maybe just their friend. Some bonds were of a nature hard to determine.

But such petty things as rules had never kept Roy Mustang from doing what he wanted!

Or that was, at least, what he wanted to believe. In truth, rules and laws had often stayed his hand, whether self-imposed or from an external source, he would often stop just shy of doing something with a crystal clear reminder of the rule ringing in the back of his mind.

Every once in a while, though, just often enough that he would think he didn't care for the rules, would he break the one that the most often intruded upon his actions. A rule, a law, that had always come from outside of himself.

"Lieutenant, what're those?" second lieutenant Havoc exclaimed, staring incredulously at Hawkeye's desk, his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth at the sight that met him upon entering the office.

"Flowers, Havoc, is that not obvious? I honestly thought your aptitude for observation was of higher quality."

"Well, yes… Of course it's flowers… But why are they on your desk?"

"Somebody put them there?" Hawkeye hazarded, never once looking up from the document at hand. "Again, I thought that was obvious."

"Well, who put them there? Come on, Hawkeye, you must have some idea!"

Hawkeye finally lifted her eyes to meet his with a sharp glare. "Somebody who has access to the building, I presume. But really, is it any of you business, second lieutenant?" before the man had a chance to answer, she lowered her gaze again, which would otherwise have enabled him to answer. "I think not. Return to your work."

"Uh… Yes, ma'am." Why did it feel like he'd just been chewed up, swallowed and coughed right back up?

**Last picture was gross. O_o Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. Merry Christmas! ^_^**


	13. Betrayal

**My surroundings are as dry as… Well, something dry. Riza's humour? Seriously, there's a dangerously low amount of moisture in the air. **

**13: Betrayal**

The lights were off, the only light coming from the weak winter moonshine. On the battered, old couch in the battered living room with its faded green walls (it seemed forever ago they had been painted that colour…) sat a young woman, staring numbly at the worn floor. Her dark amber eyes were jaded, glassy, distant, as if she weren't within herself.

"What's wrong?" the voice of her fath- Mustang brought her out of her reverie, making her lift her gaze from the floorboards. She didn't answer, however, just blinked slowly. "Sorry," the young man, soldier, sighed after a while, seating himself in a chair next to the battered old couch. "It's obvious, really."

"No…" the young woman mumbled, lowering her gaze again. "It's not."

"Your father?" The young woman winced visibly at the words, but shook her head a moment later. "It isn't? Really isn't obvious, then."

Silence descended, then, draping its choking cloak over the pair. "I feel betrayed," the young woman then whispered, raising her hands to shield her face.

"By your father?" Again, the words made her wince, but this time she nodded. "Because he left you?"

"Yes… And no."

"What did he do to you, then?"

"Aside from leaving me?" the young woman asked, rubbing her shoulder. "Mostly he wasn't there. Then, when he was finally starting to react to me… He left. Just like that," she snapped, indicating how fast it had seemed to happen. "One day we were talking amiably, the next he didn't want to see me… And now he's being readied for burial." She blinked, suddenly, as if she remembered something.

"Thank you."

"For the burial?"

"Yes."

"I couldn't turn my back on you like that."

Silence returned at that point, as if it had never lifted its heavy wings.

**…**

**What? Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.**


	14. Covered Eyes

**Why oh why is this the only thing I can concentrate on? During Roy's apprenticeship.**

**14: Covered Eyes**

"Why, pray tell, are you covering my eyes, mister Mustang?"

"Because, Riza…" Roy's voice trailed off, and he took a deep inhalation as he leaned his brow against the back of Riza's head.

"Because?" the girl prompted when Roy hadn't answered in a long while, a dangerous not slipping into her voice.

"I forgot. Your hair smells nice."

"Would you, then, uncover my eyes, mister Mustang?"

"Nope, don't think so."

"Why not?" Growled, not spoken.

"Ah… Can't remember. I just told you that, didn't I?" Roy queried, sounding blissfully unaware of the impeding danger hovering above him like a thunderhead.

"You did, which is why you should have _let go_, _mister Mustang_." The third time she said his name was a signal that she had reached her limit and would run out of patience. _Soon_.

A somewhat embarrassed silence followed. "Sorry, no can do."

"No?"

"You see… I don't really want to and please don't hit me!"

"I was planning on elbowing you."

"Thank you for waiting. I can't let go, though."

"And why not? And don't bother telling me you have forgotten," Riza quickly added, glaring into the darkness before her. "You are far too persistent to not know why."

"I, uhm…" Suddenly light overpowered the darkness, invading hyper-sensitive pupils, making the holder of said pupils wince back. "Sorry."

A light touch, barely tangible, pressed against her cheek as a pair of hands, formerly blocking all sight, helped steadied her as vision had suddenly resumed.

It took five seconds before it registered that the light touch had been a kiss and another five before Riza realised that Roy had fled the room.

It took fifteen years before she dared return the gesture.

**The lack of description of their surroundings is due to Riza's lack of sight, and this chapter centres mostly around that very same young woman, and she sees pretty much only darkness.**

**I haven't the faintest idea why Roy covered her eyes either. Maybe for the reason mentioned in chapter seven "Crime and Punishment"?**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked to help me improve. ^_^**


	15. Scent of Blood

**I have been looking forward to this prompt! Not sure why, 'cause it's actually pretty depressive.**

**15: Scent of Blood**

The scent of blood was a horrible one. Is. It is horrible.

It is the proof of illness, of something being _wrong_ in the body. A paper cut, gingivitis, a terminal disease, a fatal wound and anything in between all contained blood. However… So did the very start of life, childbirth.

But it's hard to convince yourself that anything so marvellous could ever be attached to _that_ scent when you sit with your comrades who has _bleeding_ wounds that range from simple scrapes from handling rough rubbish to severe cuts dealt by desperate, hysterical civilians who should never have seen war at all. The scent, not only of blood but also of despair, cloys the air, makes it stick in your lungs and well on its way down.

The only ones who could in any way aspire to escape that horror were the state alchemists and the high ranking officers.

Most of those were too selfish to share their little shelter with anyone else, too tired to do so, too worried about their reputation… Too worried it'd be considered breaking the rules.

The Flame Alchemist was one of the very few who ever granted anyone access to his pitiful excuse of a sanctuary with anyone.

He was also one of the less greedy, for he let two people in and expected nothing from them. At some times, though, what they needed wasn't so much a sanctuary, no matter its quality, as a confirmation that there was still life in this reeking hell.

Such as the beating of a heart against your ear and the tingling of hot breath against your skin, thought to be numb.

The Hawk's Eye, the best sniper on the damned battlefield, and the Flame Alchemist, perhaps the most gruesome killer in the whole damn war, cut a very unusual and dangerous figure when those moods overcame them, being in each others' embrace, Mustang's shirt open and Hawkeye's head resting upon his chest. To feel the beat, to feel the breath. To feel the life.

Hiding behind canvas walls from the scent of death and despair.

The scent of blood.

…

**Wow. I really, really, really like that finish. **

**Although I've been very inconsistent with when I wanted to use majuscules… And I'm about ready to drop, I'm tired. So, please, correct my grammar if you find any flaws. Or just something you think I should… Have done or not have done.**

**Hope you liked the finish as much as I did!**


	16. Reaching Voice

**I dropped out for a bit, didn't I? Then again, not like anybody missed me…**

**By the way, Adelheid A, I'm sorry for not responding to your awesome over-all review. Really, it was amazing and is exactly the kind that we need more of on this website. Thank you.**

**16: Reaching Voice**

Roy talked in his sleep. Sometimes he yelled, too. Often it was nothing more than incoherent nonsense, sometimes it was eloquent sentences, sometimes it was no more than a single word or name. As of late he hadn't dared yell not even once, not even in his dreams, for fear he should reveal something that would put his loved ones (one) in danger. And where would he be is that happened? Completely helpless is what he'd be!

So no yelling, only whimpering and whispering. And weeping.

And wishing that no one would hear what he said…

It would end badly.

But it didn't stop him from saying things, oh no, he kept mumbling and muttering, reaching with voice for something far out of hearing range, his hands grabbed at the air I a vain hope of catching hold of the happiness eluding him continuously.

Only once did Roy scream in his sleep, when the vision of _her_ falling, expression a mixture of surprise and pain, covered in blood entirely her own… And he incapable of saving her.

Riza had shaken him awake, rather worried by the agonized sounds he was making. When his dark eyes opened, filled with the purest of pain and fear, she froze as well.

And then he enveloped her, crying into her much shorter hair, whispering senseless apologies and nonsense endearments, the most insensible of which had been :"I'm so sorry you had to cut your hair!" even though it made sense in context, as her hair had been cut because it was the easiest way to get the blood and tangles out, and keep the hair out of the way of the surgery (and again a bit later to make a neater job of what the doctors had done).

Riza had almost wept, both with the remembrance of pain and fear, but also with relief that it was only the past haunting him, and not the present or the future.

"It's okay," she whispered in stead, stroking his hair. "It's over. I forgive you." As her murmured reassurances reached him, he slowly relaxed and let them both fall into sleep.

**I was playing BattleOn while writing this, stopped for the night soon after starting and walked my dog (still adorable) several times in between. ^_^ Silly me.**

**Anyway, I sort-of-do-sort-of-don't like this. How about you? Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. It would be very appreciated.**


	17. Scars

**In an attempt to convince my dog to take a much deserved nap, I write!**

**17: Scars**

Soldiers invariably got scars, it was part of the job-description (right between "glory" and "uniforms are very attractive to the ladies"), and many did indeed displays theirs and exchanged stories about the ones they remembered getting (hell if she remembered how exactly she had managed to get that wound across her left elbow, or he when anything had pierced the skin above his right hip).

Still, even for the few who did not care for such pastimes, a bit of curiosity would stir at a particularly strange specimen.

"Sir… How exactly did you manage to get your foot pierced in such a manner _and_ break your nose at the same time?" Lieutenant Hawkeye asked, all the while hurrying Colonel Mustang to the hospital. Her superior mumbled something unintelligible, bowing forward to keep the blood out of his airway.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I stepped on a rake," Mustang hissed nasally, giving up on the tissue before hurriedly pulling forth a new one. "When I tried to remove my foot, it swung up and broke my nose!"

Hawkeye stared dead ahead, concentrating on the road. "That is somewhat tragicomic, sir," she replied, keeping her composure admirably well, really trying her hardest to not laugh. When her vision started greying, she gave that endeavour up. "Excuse me," she hiccupped instead, and pulled over by the side of the road and hurried out of the vehicle.

She had barely stepped outside before she leant against the side of the car, collapsed in helpless laughter, barely capable of breathing.

Mustang frowned and smiled at the same time that he rearranged the tissue. He was both annoyed that she would laugh at his pain and immensely pleased that she was laughing (at long last) at something he had done… No matter how unintentional.

Still, when she slid to her knees for pure lack of breath, it seemed a bit overdone.

**That was fast. O_o And successful. You know the drill, bye! ^_^**


	18. I Don't Want to Realize

**Ought to write… Ought to walk dog… Ought to be healthy… Well, one out of three isn't bad, eh?**

**18: I Don't Want to Realize**

I'm staring out the window. I should be studying, the piece Master gave me today is particularly long winded and difficult. But I forget it, every word I ever read, every word Master ever said.

Including his threats if and laws against that I touch you, or even look at you, in a way more or less than respectful and reservedly friendly. The very attitude you exude to perfection.

The sun is filtered through the leaves of the old tree in the front yard, giving it opportunity to kiss your hair once again, to help you by illuminating the pages of the book you study. The same text that I read? Something entirely different? Probably the latter. Why would you read dusty old books that make little sense, when they do you no good?

You smile, lips curving satisfied, amused, enticing…

I forget my name, my very existence… It's ridiculous! A bit of sunlight and a pair of curved lips? Why should they distract me so from that which I treasure and must do?

Because they're both on the forbidden fruit. A beautiful, tasty forbidden fruit.

But I don't want to realize that, oh no. I don't want to realize that you are forbidden to me. I don't want to realize how beautiful you are. I don't want to realize that I can never forget. I don't want to realize…

I turn back to the text, feeling both refreshed and inconsequential. And hollow. As a shallow liar. A fool hiding from the feelings I myself create.

Because I don't want to realize that you are everything. I don't want to realize…

**Personally I like the reference to the idiom "sun kissed hair", better known as blonde. ^_^**


	19. Things One Cannot Understand

**This is revised version, because the original was stupid beyond words.**

**19: Things One Cannot Understand**

Roy was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, very possessive. So much so that when he had lost one old and worn sock, he had nearly turned the house inside out to find it, much to Riza's dismay, as she'd had to clean the mess after him.

So Riza knew she was in trouble when Roy one day stared intensely at her as she tried to read while sitting on a branch in the old birch tree in the backyard. He stood on the ground, hands on his hips, head tilted up so he could look at her as she sat far above him, squinting against the bright sky beyond.

Finally, after two minutes of attempting, and pretending, to read, Riza turned her head to acknowledge his presence, much to his satisfaction going by his arrogant smirk. "What?" she snapped.

"You're mine," he declared proudly, thumping a fist to the centre of his chest.

Riza sputtered indignantly. "How do you figure that?" she ground out, cheeks flushed angrily.

"I don't, I just know." He shrugged and turned to leave.

"You really owe me a better explanation and reason than that!" she called after him, turning on the branch so both her legs dangled over the side facing him.

"The reasoning is simple," Roy declared, not even turning around fully. "I want you to be mine and see you as such, thus you are."

"You've spent a bit too long thinking about that life philosophy of yours."

He just grinned at her. "Whether you believe me or not, I will make you mine."

"Well, that doesn't sound sinister at all!" she exclaimed, a sarcastic sneer to her voice.

He laughed. "A bit, perhaps… But it's a promise nevertheless."

"And if you fail miserably?"

"Oh, don't worry, pretty one, I won't." He then blew her a kiss and a grin before going on his merry way.

Riza snorted and tucked her legs back up on the branch and reopening her book. "I'll never understand that idiot," she grumbled.

Many years later, while in the process of doing paperwork, lieutenant Hawkeye stopped at a hand on her shoulder. Looking up to see colonel Mustang standing behind her, then leaning down to breathe into her ear.

Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, he smirked. "You're mine," he whispered, before turning to leave.

Hawkeye frowned confused. Then her eyes widened with sudden realisation and her head slammed into her desk. "Bastard's right!" she growled.

**Not like it'll ever be easy to understand the opposite gender, Riza.**

**Meh, still not satisfied, but it's much better than the original, trust me!**


	20. Murderer

**Hi! =D I'm back.**

**20: Murderer**

"There's a difference," Roy stubbornly persisted, crossing his arms.

Riza shook her head, stubbornly shoving her growing bangs out of her face. "I can't see it! One kills people, so does the other. It's that simple!"

"No, no! It's way more complicated than that. See, murderers enjoy it, do it for the thrill of the hunt, for pleasure. But killers doesn't necessarily, they might just-"

"Be following orders? Will you tell me soldiers couldn't possibly turn to their superiors and tell them to go suck their mother's arse and throw down their weapons? Please. They enjoy it." She slammed her palm into the table and leant back in her chair, eyes narrowed as she anticipated his next move.

"Or they might be protecting someone," Roy said quietly in response, lightly drumming his fingers against the table. He looked up at her through his lashes, seeing a moment of confusion at his calm response. But, always the capable fighter, Riza quickly gathered her wits. He didn't give her time to formulate a response. "And what if, by taking orders and killing someone, they are protecting more people?"

"Those they know!" Riza quickly cut in. "Lets take a theoretical soldier, one whose family has been threatened if he doesn't fight in the war. He's killing fathers, brothers, sons and risking his own life for the sake of, what, four people? He's ruining and ending many lives to save a handful. If enough soldiers just said 'no', the government would have to cave in!"

"You would have people choose logic over love?"

"Numbers, more like, and logic founded in love. He doesn't want to lose his family, his family doesn't want to lose him, the same for every other family, right?"

"I see your point."

"I'm not joining the military."

"You won't help me change Amestris?"

"Maybe, yes, but I won't kill for that purpose."

"But you are willing to risk your life?"

"I only mean something to two people: you and my grandfather. Grandfather might be sad to be without me, but not that sad. And… You're trying to get me to risk my life."

"Ironic…" Roy mumbled, making a sweeping hand gesture. "I don't really want you to die, though. I just want your help… And your company." Another unspoken request hovered just behind his teeth, waiting for an unguarded moment to get out and be voiced.

"But why do you want me to go to war?"

"So you can spread your idealistic views among the soldiers," Roy answered, getting up from his chair. "Get them to drop out of the military."

Riza stared quietly straight ahead for a few seconds, then she sighed and closed her eyes. "I'll think about, but I won't promise anything."

"That's all I can ask," Roy replied, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the young woman's brow, brushing her soft fringe out of the way.

As he was leaving, Riza turned her head slightly to look after him. He hesitated for just a second in the doorway, but quickly gathered himself and continued.

Years later, sitting across from Mustang in a train cabin, Hawkeye drummed her fingers against the windowsill. "What was the difference again, sir?" she asked.

"The difference between what, lieutenant?"

Hawkeye kept her gaze directed straight out the window and her facial muscles relaxed. "Murderers and killers."

Mustang quickly caught on to what she was talking about and shifted to look straight at her with darkened eyes. "Whether they enjoy it or not, whether it was fully planned or not… By that definition, you could call hunters and butchers murderers."

"What are we, then?"

"We're soldiers, Hawkeye," he responded, using her name in a rare spout of tenderness. "We're neither."

"I beg to differ," she turned her dark amber eyes to meet his. "We're both, sir."

**And… Cut!**

**I hope you enjoyed, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	21. Repentance

**Yay for random writing streak! =D**

**21: Repentance**

They had dreams, sometimes, of a tall unclear figure asking them questions and rating them on them (they had them at the same time, with the same questions, but they didn't know that).

The questions could really be anything from: 'And how did you like the weather we had today?' to: 'Do you remember the look in so-and-so's eyes when you killed him/her?'

They almost always answered, but then, occasionally, the figure would bend down to look them in the eyes, asking them loud and clear: "What is your repentance?" And they couldn't answer, for they didn't know. Not at any which point in time. It might be a bond that was hurting them in its need for expression despite the danger it posed; it might be waking up in the middle of the night mind, body, heart, and soul all aching with remorse, pain, and fear incurred by one dream; it might be taste of ash in their mouth as they ate; or it might be the glimpses of happiness, which they perpetually turned their back on, so that they could keep working to change everything. Or, possibly, it was these dreams where they were questioned as if on trial.

The tall figure would soon tire of the indecisiveness and would ask them a new question about anything.

**Totally uninspired. =p If I didn't know this was all about Royai, I would never have known.**

**But LOLs for random dream characters.**

**Please review and tell me what liked/disliked. ^_^ Although I have a good guess…**


	22. God!

**Hmm… It's a cold summer here… I almost miss Rome. If I hadn't been so uncomfortable and grumpy there, that is.**

**22: God**

Once upon a time, she had liked to tease him that he had a god-complex, a tight, sarcastic smile about her lips. Most of the time he would play along, puffing out his chest like a rooster, declaring loudly and with all the pride of a thirteen year old boy, that he didn't have a complex, because he knew very well that he was God! Occasionally he would poke her ribs (making her giggle helplessly) and tell her that if anyone would know, it would be her. Rarely, he would give her one long, doleful look and tell her that he didn't; and just that. A simple fact.

Once, after Ishval, she had slipped the tease into a conversation, giving him opportunity to react to it or ignore it as he pleased. He had looked at her, long and searching, but only slightly poignant, then he had grinned widely. "Why, of course I have a god-complex, now more than ever! I mean, do you know anyone better suited for the position or what?" He snapped his fingers, deftly lighting a nearby officers pipe for him, earning himself a loudly rumbled thanks.

She laughed, although quietly and controlled, for the first time in years, making Mustang preen further.

It was a renewal of who they were and their relationship, never mind that it was an old routine and a familiar phrase. The response and method was new, they were different… Even if they knew it each others' mind to a degree that was somewhere between ridiculous and scary.

They had a long, difficult and, likely, bloody way ahead of them. But when there was peace beneath a ridiculously blue sky, and an old, familiar, comfortable joke was shared… It was just hard to remember that they had a duty that was almost a religion to them, and that neither believed in God, that neither wanted Him to exist.

Even though he never did poke her in the ribs in response anymore.

**Stupidity flows from my head, through my fingers, via my keyboard, into the computer from whence it takes the full tour around the internet! =D That smiley always seems very dopey to me… If you use deviantArt, then you might know the emote dummy. That's the one I'm thinking of…**

**See? Stupidity. ^_^ Anyhow, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.**


	23. Someone I Want to Protect

**Royai is awesomeness. That is a fact I hope you appreciate.**

**23: Someone I Want to Protect**

There were many things they never told the other. Well, not in words, at least. The first time they had confessed to each other had been completely soundless, it hadn't even been particularly spectacular to behold. Riza had just barely stroked his cheek with two fingers to feel for the acclaimed "fuzz of manhood", Roy had returned the gesture before she could say something sarcastic. And that was that, they both knew and never needed to utter a proper word. Her father, who had watched the display over the breakfast table, hadn't even realized what had happened.

Things like that they didn't need to say, because they understood the feeling, and returned, in a way that was far beyond the understanding of the mind. One shared smile could be for them what a twilight serenade and a passionate nights were for others; a full confession and conversation.

But then there were things they "didn't say" that the other didn't catch on to, for whatever reasons there was.

When one day, just before they left the building, Roy had pulled her into the lightest embrace possible, one arm just around her shoulders and her head just resting on his shoulder, and quickly pulled away, she hadn't understood that he told her that she was too precious for him to cage.

When she had run her fingers through the back of his hair from behind, a pensive frown and pout in place, he hadn't understood she had told him to be careful.

When he had buried his nose in her hair, attempting to drown in her soft, crisp scent and pressed a kiss to her brow, she hadn't heard him tell her that she was the centre and only stable thing in his slowly crumbling world.

When her arms had snaked around his waist from behind, her eyes tightly closed as she pressed herself as close to him as she could get, he had overheard her telling him that he was her anchor in her storm-ravaged existence.

When he stroked the wing-like fringe out of her eyes, to simply stare smilingly into the amber colour before pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose, she had been deaf to his declaring that she was one he wanted to protect, had to protect.

She never tried to tell him that she would protect him, she just did. And he eventually understood it anyway.

Because the most important things in life went without saying, and so it also was with the truest things.

**I haven't any real comment. Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	24. Not Here

**I be bored.**

**24: Not Here**

He had fallen for her eyes first, Roy decided as he was fiddling with a small rock while sitting on a bigger rock in Ishval. It wasn't exactly relevant to anything he was doing. But then again, he'd rather not think about what he was doing. He threw the rock away, but soon found himself absentmindedly turning another one over in his hands.

A flash of dark amber ran before his inner eye, making him smile slightly. She had always had lovely warm eyes, even when they had been filled with disdain at him (for stealing her father's minimal affection and attention) and she had done her absolutely best to make him want to leave.

She had looked almost beautiful (even if she had been just a child and he often found himself being more and more adult) as she had glared at him with sparking eyes through an unruly blonde fringe. And she definitely hadn't appreciated him laughing at her and calling her cute while patting her on the head. He winced slightly in memory of the quick action she took.

When she, over time, had come to accept the new addition to the household, her eyes had taken on a new kind of warmth (he had been worried she might start to bore him now that she was no longer going to fight him), one that had seemed to confuse her more than it had him the first time he saw it; the warmth of earnest affection had radiated from her eyes and smile. Then he had tickled her, making her squeal in mixed surprise and laughter.

That was the second thing he had fallen in love with, her laughter. He had known right from the moment he heard it that he loved her laugh, which he hadn't with her eyes… But he was absolutely certain that he had fallen for those first.

The moment she had started warming towards him, he had been able to see a difference. Not just in her attitude and the way she looked at him, but also in her cooking, which her father noticed and commented on. Riza had practically glowed like a sun at receiving praise from her father, momentarily distracting Roy from eating. Then he set to like a starving man and asked for seconds before either of the other two were halfway between their first.

Roy chuckled in the back of his throat, almost not feeling the hot desert sun scratching at his back, heating it nearly unbearably. Oh yes, Riza cooked every meal for worry her father might otherwise forget.

She had looked terrible in the mornings while making breakfast, although she had somehow managed to change before eating, dressed in what was probably a long shirt three or four sizes too big and made for a boy with a bigger frame (although when she had started to grow into it, more of her legs peeking out from beneath and her hips being more defined through the cloth, it had changed from terrible to alluring) and her sun-kissed hair going in as many directions as possible. He had started straining himself to get up as early as possible to be able to catch her unprepared, although he got the feeling she didn't really care… But the way she had looked when she turned halfway around to give him a drowsy morning greeting made any such thing irrelevant; eyes glazed and bright, lips curled in a lazy half-smile, hair as ruffled as it could possibly be, and seeming smaller for the all too big shirt.

"So," Maes suddenly asked, dumping down on the rock behind Roy and leaning against him. "Who are you thinking off?"

"Oh, just a childhood friend."

"Let's see… Someone who can make you wince, smile, make a grimace like that, and make you laugh… must have been a pretty interesting girl."

"How did you know that?"

"Only a girl would hurt you bad enough for it to still hurt today, would make you capable of laughing _here_, would do something to incur _that_ face, and would also inspire a smile. A guy might do one of those things, but never all of them. So who is it?"

"You wouldn't know her."

"Do you love her?"

"I… It probably sounds strange, maybe even cruel, but I'm not sure whether I'm sad or glad that she's not here."

"So that's a yes and damned be the gods if they get in the way."

Roy chuckled, turning the stone over in his hands again. "You bet it is."

**I had many ideas for this, including Hawkeye going insane and something way closer to the border leading to Inappropriate than anything in this one did.**

**Lease review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	25. So I'm Crying

**So, 'cause I'm on some kind of spree anyway, I thought I'd just give you the current data on this story. This is my fourth most viewed, fifth most reviewed, and my second longest story. The one that's in the lead (in all these categories) deserves that status, but the ones between… Not so sure.**

**25: So I'm Crying**

Roy laid on his bed, clutching his pillow to his chest and tried desperately to smother already quiet sobs into its textile. Whenever had the world changed so terribly much? And why must it change in such a gruesome way?

"Mister Mustang?" A dreaded voice queried from the door to his room. "Are you all right?"

He tried to force himself to become one with the pillow, clutching it closer to his chest and curled tighter around it.

"Mi- Roy, are you sick?" Light footsteps advanced upon him, culminating in a gentle, small hand on his shoulder insistently forcing him to roll over slightly so that the daughter in the Hawkeye house could see his face. Tearstained and blotchy, his eyes bright with tears and his nose nearly glowing in the gloom he sure looked a sight.

All he could see was sunflower-yellow, pale skin, and dark amber and these were all blurred and mixed. But he could tell that, overnight, the little girl he'd almost fancied having a childish crush on, had grown up and matured. Her facial lines were becoming more pronounced, it was much easier to tell where her ribs ended and flowed into her waist, and her hips were starting to define themselves. It was so painful to bear, suddenly realising that his childish crush was being hounded by teenage lust as girl became woman.

He blinked, and his eyes cleared momentarily, long enough to reveal her worry to him. He nodded. "I-I'm fine," he croaked, snuffling just a second later. "I-" he was interrupted by a rattling sob.

"I'll tell Father you're not feeling very well today," she told him squeezing his arm lightly, and allowing him to curl back up. She then, hesitantly, leant down to press a light kiss to his temple before quietly exiting the room.

The moment the door closed behind her, Roy smothered a frustrated, pained, howl into his pillow. Oh, the agony! And she had no idea what she was doing, and she shouldn't have, that would be all wrong! But, God, why did it have to happen?

He twitched and quavered, throwing himself to and fro. Trying to get comfortable, trying to get rid of the corrupt emotions and hungers. Why her, of all, why her?

In another part of the house, Riza told her father that his student wasn't feeling well, throwing a worried glance over her shoulder in the general direction of the boy. "I don't know what's wrong with him, though…" She bit her bottom lip.

Berthold Hawkeye cast his daughter one long glance that started at her feet and moved to the large, dark eyes. She would look a lot like her mother when she was done growing… "It's a boy thing, Riza. I doubt you'd understand it even if I told you. Which I'm not quite sure how I would do anyway, and absolutely certain I shouldn't."

Riza abruptly turned back to her father, looking bemused at his confession of insecurity. Then she nodded, accepting what he said as true.

"I think it best if you give him some space in the next few weeks."

**So… I have absolutely no idea what it's like to be a teenage boy, and for good reasons, but I suppose that it must be something along these lines, if you suddenly found out that a friend of yours is actually rather attractive. Maybe not as nerve-wracking or humiliating, but still… Rather wish someone would tell if I'm ridiculously off-mark or am oddly close to the centre. Please?**

**Do us all a favour, review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	26. Cureless

**And we're officially past the first quarter of chapters! =D I had no idea I could actually concentrate on this thing for so long! Maybe I should be doing more of these things…**

**26: Cureless**

"Is love a disease?" Roy asked, his voice vibrating oddly through his stomach to her head.

"You have as much experience with it as I do, probably more, even," Riza replied, rubbing her forehead.

"Exactly why I ask you. You have probably spent more time and energy in analyzing it."

"I? But I am just a soldier. How could I ever have analyzed anything, much less such a fascinating and abstract concept as love, more than an accomplished scientist such as yourself?" she sat up, turning only slightly to smile at him.

"Oh, I have thought on it. But for some reason you always end up distracting me, even when you're not there." He reached out to run a hand through her hair, smile widening as the sunlight caught in it and made the strands shimmer.

"Now, how is that possible?" she asked, draping herself across his chest, resting her chin on her hands.

"Oh, by having such memorable eyes and such prettyful hair…" He kept toying with her hair, rubbing strands between his fingers and caressing locks.

"Prettyful isn't a word."

"Well, just see what you do to me! Making me forget what is and isn't words."

"Hmm… Yes, maybe love is a disease. A mental disease like dementia, and you're obviously infected. I ought to stay away from you or I might catch it!"

"You mean you haven't already? Damn, and here I thought I'd tried my hardest to infect you with my loving!"

Riza smiled, lifting herself off of him. "Sorry, sweetie, you didn't quite manage." She leans over to kiss him on the chin, before pulling back with the lightning reactions of a soldier to evade his arms before they can close around her.

He sits up quickly, hoping to follow her in time to catch her before she's standing fully. He's too late, though, and by the time he's fully upright, she's taken two steps away from him. She sends him a wicked grin.

"Love is definitely an illness, a cureless one at that, but it's not all that bad, you can learn to live with it." She started backing up. "But that doesn't mean you should let it catch you so easily." With that she spun and started running from him, just as he got to his feet and began chasing after her.

He would eventually catch her, of course, he was bigger and more enduring even if she was nimbler and quicker to move, but even so he knew she would let him catch her in the end, often times through trickery, by hiding behind a tree and waiting for him to come barrelling by before shouting some nonsense to get his attention. She would make a shallow attempt at escaping, but he would be close enough to catch her time, trapping her between him and the tree.

He loved being lovesick. Even if there was a cure for it, he wouldn't take it but would likely transmute it into something utterly bizarre.

**Love makes a fool of every man and woman, but those struck can hardly care… Or something else equally cheesy. I love cheese. And the "word" prettyful.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	27. Dependency

**I'm on a rain-induced killing spree! =D Wait, what? Oh… Seems like I was misinformed; it is not a killing spree, it's a writing spree. They're so easy to confuse. ^_^**

**27: Dependency**

"I love her!" Roy sobbed into the bar, hiccupping in a mixture of drink and tears. "I can't life with… out her!"

"Buddy, believe me, I know the feeling," Maes told his friend, smiling bemusedly down at him over the rim of his barely-drunk-off glass.

"I know you do, Ma… arse. If anyone under… stand, it's you!" Roy patted him on the shoulder, sniffling. "Thank you for be-bean so super… portive."

"Of course, mate. So, what'd you like about her?"

"Her rabbit, pal, and her lies," Roy confessed, sobbing dramatically into his palm.

"Her… Rabbit?"

"Yeah! It's all shiny and gold, too! All prettyful and sunny…" Roy suddenly shot upright, nearly toppling off the chair. "The sun kissed it first!" he screamed, as if the thought horrified him more than anything else he could think of.

"Ah, her _hair_… Yes, it's really nice." How had he come from 'hair' to 'rabbit' so fluidly?

"An' her lies… Ooh, all brown an' red an' round an' big an' so… soul."

"Yeah, her eyes are pretty nice."

"And have you _seen_ her tips?" Someone at a nearby table tried to choke a guffaw, although Roy was oblivious to it. "They're so nice…"

"I'll take your word for it, buddy."

"An' she smell go… goof, too! Like laundry that's been washed and put on your bed when dried. It'd be really nice to have her on my bed…" he whispered, sniffling.

"I know the feeling, buddy. Hey, can you hold on a second, I need to take care of something urgent?"

Roy sniffled, but nodded. "I just thing of… FLOWERS!" he howled suddenly, collapsing crying over the bar.

Maes hurried to make a phone call, and was waiting in front of the bar fifteen minutes later. Lieutenant Hawkeye came walking up the street, wearing a knee-length skirt and blouse, regularly pushing her growing hair out of the way. She looked irritated from a distance, but seeing her superior hanging on his best friend made the expression change to one of worry.

"Hawkeye, so nice of you to come all the way out here at this hour!" Maes greeted her with a grin and a small hand movement, as he was holding Roy up as good he could.

"Lieutenant colonel," Hawkeye acknowledged with a curt nod. "You said it was urgent and about colonel Mustang… I hadn't quite expected it to be this brand of urgent."

Roy blinked, apparently regaining a bit of consciousness at the sound of the woman's voice. Suddenly, something clicked. "Riza!" he shouted gleefully, launching himself at her and clutching her as close as he could. It was somewhat difficult as she had stiffened in surprise. "Riza's here, Mars!"

"Yes, Sir, that's a very good observation," Hawkeye commented dryly, trying to disengage her rather smelly superior. Alcohol wasn't the most pleasant of odours.

"You might not want to do that, lieutenant," Maes warned, causing Hawkeye to freeze, which allowed Roy to nuzzle into her hair, cooing nonsense. "He's drunk a lot and I'm not sure he could stand by himself."

The woman sighed, attempting to look over the drunkard's shoulder. "Will you then help me get him back to the car? I'm not sure I could carry him all by myself."

"You brought a car? How foresighted of you!"

"Do you want a lift?"

"No, the walk will do me some good and I don't live very far away."

A few minutes later, they had succeeded in getting Mustang into the passenger's seat and said their goodbyes. During the drive Roy seemed blissfully content with just staring at her.

Until she tries to get out of the car, that is, when he suddenly decided to hug her tightly and declare as loudly as possible. "I love ya, Riza!"

Hawkeye stiffened for a moment between embarrassment and something like outrage. Then she sighs instead and pats his arm. "I should hope you do, Sir, seeing how dependent you are on me."

"Yes, I'd dye without you, just course I couldn't survive. Like lifing wit no food!" There was some silence, as Hawkeye tried not to laugh too loudly at his mispronunciations. "I like your rabbit a lot, Riza."

"I… Sir, I have a dog, not a rabbit."

"No, not like the animal, prettyful, but like this!" he patted her on the head to prove his point. "It's shiny…"

"Ah, my _hair_… Yes, thank you. That's nice of you. Shouldn't you be going to bed now?"

"Bead? That's a good idea!" And suddenly Roy was bouncing out the car and towards his apartment, leaving his flabbergasted lieutenant behind.

**I still have no idea how drunk people behave. XD I had to draw inspiration from other fics featuring a drunk Roy. And the typos (in Roy's speech, at least) are very much on purpose. I particularly liked the one where he'd gone from 'hair' to 'hare' to 'rabbit' as if it was all very natural; I considered having him progress into 'ribbit' but decided against it.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	28. Pain and Wounds

**Help… Me! I can't stop… Writing! Stupid rain, Havana needs exercise!**

**Whoa… Ought to have saved the rake-story for this one. =p**

**28: Pain and Wounds**

The first thing he did after regaining his eyesight, and finally being allowed some privacy to readjust to being able to see, was climb onto Hawkeye's bed and just stare at her with morosely sad eyes; much to Hawkeye's private amusement. She had, nevertheless, pulled up her legs to give him more safe space to sit on.

After ten minutes of nothing, with Hawkeye just staring at the ceiling and enjoying the silence, Mustang reached out a hand to finger her newly cut hair. "I'm sorry…" he whispered when she turned to blink curiously at him.

"For what? For making it necessary to have my hair cut?"

"Yes… No… Both." He stared anguished at the roughly shorn strands in his hand, fingering them for a moment, before carefully moving his hand down to barely brush her neck where the bandages hid an ugly wound that was all his fault.

But, although he had been very careful, the light-hearted humour fled her eyes as she hissed sharply in pain and pulled away from his touch. He stared agonized at his hand, hanging lonely in the air, before a smaller hand rose to gently grasp his and lower it to his side.

"I can re-grow my hair, and it saved me a lot of trouble in having to get the blood and dirt out. And stop looking so guilty! You didn't intend to pain me, it's as much my fault for refusing the painkillers."

Mustang stared at her for five seconds before launching across his bed to the table where a doctor had left a bottle of painkillers, in case his hands should decide to act up during the night. They weren't extraordinarily strong, but they were enough to dull almost any pain.

Once back on Hawkeye's bed, he carefully poured two out onto his palm, wincing when he couldn't quite get a feel for his hands, and handed them to her. "I insist that you at least take these. And if you won't, I will make it an order, and if you refuse, I will put up so much of a fuss that a scary nurse will come and tell you to take them."

Hawkeye blinked, bemused, then picked the pills from his hand, very careful with his wound, and swallowed them somewhat reluctantly. "Why the fuss?"

"I _hate_ to see you in pain, especially when I'm the cause or can do something about it. It goes against my core nature."

"That's almost cute, Roy," Hawkeye said, crossing her legs and supporting her chin on her hand. "Almost, mind."

"You know, Riza, that's the first time you've said my name since…" Mustang pursed his lips, leaning back on his hands. "You were talking in your sleep, something about dancing chairs or something. I stopped listening after you said my name."

"Dancing chairs? I wish I'd remembered that dream… Sounds like fun."

"Yeah… 'Look at the chairs move, Roy' was what you said exactly." Mustang grinned at her. "And then you made the sweetest face, almost like you tried for a smile but couldn't quite get it right."

Hawkeye chuckled, shaking her head slightly, too keep from bothering the itching wound. "You have an odd notion of cuteness, Roy. You also persisted in calling me adorable the first six months you lived with us."

"You were! Then you started ignoring me and it became less fun, and then you started becoming the beauty everyone knows and loves today."

"Thank you."

Mustang patted her on the head, then pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You really ought to grow your hair out…"

"Oh, why?"

"Because long hair is dead _sexy_."

There were ten seconds of a silence so total, it cancelled out all the sounds of the hospital. Then Hawkeye collapsed laughing, clutching her sides as if to keep them from splitting.

"What's so funny?" Mustang whined, pouting sulkily.

"Long hair…" Hawkeye gasped, unable to speak properly through her chortling. "Dead!"

"Well, it is! And thank you very much for making me realize!"

Hawkeye kept laughing, too busy with her merriment to notice that she should be irritating her injury.

**You have NO idea how much I've wanted to use that line! You can't possibly imagine how I've just been waiting for the chance to use it! And Roy not being able to fully feel his hands was inspired by my dad, who cut on of his hands and often complains about it. This fic also marks my having written three hundred pages of sappy-sweet fics! Well, with a lot of cheating like these notes and separator-lines, but still… **

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^ BECAUSE LONG HAIR IS DEAD SEXY! XD**


	29. Existence

**I stand by my last statement in the chapter prior to this one! **

**29: Existence**

_Cogito ergo sum_, I think, therefore I am. That had always been a rule of life for Roy Mustang. If he didn't think, he didn't exist, so he always thought on every little thing that passed him by in his life, hoping to also give that thing some meaning as a reaction. His aunt had encouraged this thought, often prompting him to tell her what he'd thought about something particular and prompting him to think on many things he may not have noticed.

Then he met Riza Hawkeye. She seemed to deny thinking of something as often as possible and would gladly accept anything at face value if she could get away with it. She frustrated him more than he cared to admit, for he could _see_ intelligence lurk in the corner of her eyes and in the almost cynical tilt of her lips on the rare occasion when she smiled and in the offhanded, sarcasm-laden comments she would throw at him with a sneer to her tone whenever he had bungled some information.

Yet she refused to think. Think long and hard on a subject like he did. She would take her initial opinion and stick with it until something happened to disprove her thought, when she'd just shrug and accept it.

He had snapped at her once, much to her amusement if he had seen the glimmer of a smile right, ending by asking her how she managed to exist with so little thought.

She had looked pensively at something over his shoulder, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Then she had smiled brightly and leant forward conspiratorially. "_Sentio ergo sum_," she had told him in a soft voice, then skipped out of the room as if it was perfectly normal behaviour for her.

"_Sentio_… You speak Latin?" he had called after her. "Wait… You feel?" He had whispered that, in part because she likely wouldn't have taken it very nicely and in part because she was out of hearing by then. He had then set to mull over what she had said… And came to the conclusion that her view was as good as his.

**'_Sentio ergo sum_'=I feel, therefore I am. Please review and tell me what liked/disliked. ^_^**


	30. Conversation

**Last chapter was short because… I was busy brushing my dead sexy long hair. XD Marduk, it's still hilarious! =D And for readers prior to 8/12/2011, I revised chapter nineteen (it sucked big time) and made some small adjustments to twenty-nine, just grammatical errors and typos.**

**Holy bastard… We're at thirty already? O_o**

**30: Conversation**

"So Grumman is your grandfather?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought you said you didn't know of any family?"

"Not at the time, no. But in the mean time we passed each other and he accidentally said my mother's name in greeting. After I asked him about it, we found out how we were related."

"He seemed rather familiar for such a short acquaintance. He kissed you, Hawkeye."

"He's a social and affectionate person, sir, and it was easy for him to fall into the same routine he had with my mother. And he made it a point to have at least one meal with me a week so we could get to know each other."

"And the kisses on the brow?"

"He said I was emaciated from lack of affection."

"And what am I? A piece of dry bread?"

"No, you're a Colonel."

"I'm aware of that, but… I thought we were friends, at least?"

"I suppose we are, but- Colonel! Let go off me!"

"No. You said we're friends, and I'm allowed to hug my friends!"

"Then how come I've never seen you hug Hughes?"

"Because that'd be all wrong in so many ways!"

"Colonel, please let go off me before I have to resort to violence."

"All right, all right! But… Haven't we known each other longer than you've known Grumman?"

"Much longer, I'd say. Why?"

"Do I get to kiss you, too?"

"…"

"Well?"

"This conversation is over, return to your work."

"Wha-? But, Hawkeye you never-"

"Do your paperwork, sir."

"But we're in the hospital! I haven't got any paperwork!"

"Do your job, Colonel."

"… Yes, Lieutenant."

**Lieutenant General Grumman is Riza's maternal grandfather according to the "Perfect Guidebook 2", apparently. I got it off the FMA wikia. I don't know about you… But I rather liked writing in this style. I might do it again, but probably not. I love my adjectives too much. I also decided that from now on, all military titles will be spelled with a majuscule in the beginning, no idea if that's correct, though.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	31. Home Cooking

**The more I write the more I… Exist? Hmm… _Ego scribero ergo sum_? I like. ^_^**

**31: Home Cooking**

"I thought only growing boys needed to eat like lions," Hawkeye mumbled absentmindedly, over the rim of her teacup. "Yet one of your meals are larger than three of mine put together."

Mustang stopped mid-bite, a long, floppy piece of pasta hanging from his mouth, prompting a snorted laugh from Hawkeye.

"I revise that statement, I thought boys stopped growing when they hit twenty, not forty!"

Mustang hurriedly gulped his mouthful. "I'm not forty!" he then exclaimed indignantly, ignoring the hustle around them.

"My point exactly. Where did you get all this food from, anyway? I know for a fact the cafeteria doesn't serve spring rolls."

"I made them myself. I have learned something from all this bachelor living."

"I thought you lived off of restaurants, and they off of you, and your errant dates?"

"Occasionally I do that, but I do know how to cook. I would offer to serve you a meal…"

"But?"

"But I have no idea what to serve." Blatant lie, and they both knew it. "Here, try a spring roll. You need food, too, even if growing girls doesn't eat."

She chuckled dryly. "Well, then it's good I've stopped growing some time ago."

"Really? Then why can't I see any food on your plate? Actually… Why can't I see a plate?"

"I don't know, maybe you've gone blind?" She pointed at his own plate of pasta.

"Don't jinx it, woman! Here, eat before you say another cursed sentence."

Hawkeye just chuckled as he hurried to push a spring roll and some tomatoes towards her, encouraging her to eat madly.

After the first bite, she allowed a look of surprise to cross her face. His cooking had actually improved drastically. She told him as much when he pushed her to tell him what she thought, although she disguised it with a: "Better than I thought."

**A bit lazy, isn't it? But… Fluffy, I judge.**

**Remember _scribero ergo sum_ and deliver unto me a full review, filled with all your thoughts, likes and dislikes…**


	32. Shirt

_**Scribero ergo sum**_**! Say it with me, people! And after that, you better realize how dead sexy long hair really is.**

**32: Shirt**

"Mister Mustang?" Riza asked from her place on the bed, blinking perplexedly at him.

"Yes, miss Hawkeye, what can I do for you?" he responded, making a quick note before quickly looking into her eyes.

"Why did you take your shirt off? It's a bit too chilly for comfort…"

Roy looked down at his bare chest and the defined muscles of his stomach. "I thought it would be more fair this way, miss Hawkeye," he said, almost flirtatiously, grinning cockily at her. His smile softened when she flushed and hid her face in her arms. He followed the rush of blood from her cheeks, to her ears, down her neck and to the top of the array on her back, his soft smile fading when he saw the crimson lines.

She had sounded like she had realized the burden of carrying of the knowledge, but hadn't minded getting it imprinted upon her the way it had, as if she hadn't realized what a perverted twist to her relationship with her father it really was. Then again, master Hawkeye had never been a good father, he had been a fine teacher, but had been awkward around and unnecessarily hard on his daughter, as if constantly preparing her for an exam that just didn't exist and expecting her to better her answers from day to day, never mind that the questions changed. Every time he had praised her, Riza looked like a puppy whose master had just come home after a long while away; alternately, she had looked like a near-drowned kitten every time he had scolded her (in part because she took a hurried bath afterwards, and would just sit on her bed and stare wretchedly at the floor, hair still dripping wet). He had respected his teacher, maybe even liked him at times, but when he had first seen the array on her back, an inferno of hatred had nearly swallowed him whole, and it was only a touch of tenderness towards the still-young woman standing before him, trusting him, that had saved him from the shadows of his former master.

He draped his shirt across her bare back suddenly, causing her to start rising of the mattress, only to be held back by his firm hand on her shoulder. "I very much doubt that you want to do that, miss. I was just going to get us some tea, and thought you might appreciate the warmth. I'll be right back."

Riza sat up just as Roy left the room, turning around to cover her chest with his shirt. She sat still for a moment, then hid her face in the heavy cotton, surprised at the coarseness of the cloth. And at the scent that clung to it, both comfortingly familiar and so utterly foreign… Had he really changed so much while he had been gone, that he even smelled differently?

She donned the shirt cautiously, having just closed the last button on the too-large garment when Roy re-entered with a mug of tea in each hand.

He halted in the door, looking confused at her and causing an embarrassed blush to cross her features. Then he grinned widely, friendlily. "You have me at a disadvantage, miss, seeing as how you are wearing my shirt and I can hardly wear yours. Or maybe I could, but it couldn't possibly look as charming as you manage."

**It's getting increasingly harder for me to write these notes, they feel all wrong, suddenly. Although the mental picture of sad, little Riza made me feel very fuzzy...**


	33. A Walk

**I got rum balls! =D That is a thing, Google it. **

**33: A Walk**

Any casual observer would have seen two soldiers taking a break from their normal duties to take a walk in the park with their dog. Actually, that's just about what anyone would see, even those who would recognize their rank as Colonel and Lieutenant, and some might put more weight than others on him being infamous player Roy Mustang and her being a colleague of his.

But most wouldn't. Most would just see two soldiers in stark contrast to each other, going for a walk in the park, making inane chatter and watch a black-and-white dog run, never far from them and always coming when the woman called for him.

Someone who truly knew the two, or maybe just one who was a master at reading the language of the body, might notice some of what was being said beneath the casual chummy attitude the pair had adopted.

Such as the equality in their matched steps, the obvious affection in the smiles they easily shared and the long acquaintance in the ease with which they understood the vague references of the other.

But, oddly, no one would ever see what they read the clearest; I miss you, I long for you, I want you, I hope you are happy, I wish it was with me and, clearest and loudest of all, I love you with all that I am.

Indeed, a simple walk in the park could say much if one just listened properly. But, then again, all most people would see were a pair of soldiers taking advantage of a break to go for a walk.

**Muh… Am I the only one who thinks it's a bit awkward? **

**And a note on Hayate, he can't be a Shiba Inu. Not a pure-breed, anyway. Maybe a mix with a high percentage, but he can't be a pure bred Shiba. I am willing to come with a long explanation why, but I won't preach it her.**

**Please review and tell me what liked/disliked. ^_^**


	34. Telephone

**Must… Continue… Spree! Ought to drink more tea, though…**

**34: Telephone**

Roy had been surprised to find there was no telephone in the Hawkeye household. He had literally searched every room for sign of a phone, only to come out of it empty-handed, slightly dusty, and with a sore ear from being dragged out of Riza's room. Not that he had any idea why she had been so upset about it, there had only been some books, a few drawings and sketches, and the obligatory knickknacks. His cousins had much better reason to drag him out of their rooms by his ear, and they rarely even tried to keep him out.

He wasn't quite sure why he expected her to have a telephone in her room, though… But it wasn't anywhere else, and Riza took care of a lot around the house.

One day, when master Hawkeye had left to run an errand of his, he had asked the girl about it, she had shrugged in response, prompting him to press the issue until she was giving him a most incredulous look.

"Mister Mustang, I really do not know why Father insists on not having a phone. Sometimes he says it would merely be an unnecessary expense, sometimes it's because he wants to be able to work without worrying about being interrupted at odd hours, sometimes it's because he's absolutely certain it's just a fad anyway, and sometimes he just mumbles something about my mother and requests that it's left at that. We have never had a telephone as far as I'm aware." That was the first time he had realized how sharp and piercing her gaze could be. Which was probably what prompted his next question.

"You have a mother?" It just flew out of his mouth before he ha a chance to stop it, not that he tried very hard.

"Had a mother, mister Mustang, she's dead now." She had been very calm about it, just going about her homework like they were discussing the table.

"I-I'm sorry to hear that…"

"You shouldn't be," she had said with a shrug, looking up at him once again. "I didn't really know her. I was sad at the time, I remember, but that's really the only thing I remember of my own volition about her, that I was sad when she was gone. Anything else I remember is solely because of mementoes."

"I'm even more sorry now! Are you purposefully trying to make me feel as much guilt as possible?"

"Yes, it's all a plot to make you feel guilty about an event you had no idea was happening and had no control over whatsoever and would likely have happened whether you had been born here or in Xing or not at all."

"You're not making it any better!"

"God, you're a wimp! Will, you get your overactive conscience to heel, already?"

"I refuse."

Riza shook her head, pushing her ragged fringe out of the way as she returned to the paper at hand. "You are an odd specimen, mister Mustang."

"But a very handsome one at that!" He stood to strike an eye-catching pose.

She gave him a once-over, then smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm not exactly the best judge of that," she said in a very diplomatic tone. "And I'm afraid I can't direct to someone more qualified. Sorry."

He mumbled something that was probably rude and settled back in his chair.

**Roy is a vain child, make no mistake.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^ I feed off of reviews! And I'm not on a diet! *Insert evil laughter***


	35. Letter

**I ought to… Stop writing these notes, they never make any proper sense anyway.**

**35: Letter**

Roy's tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he focused on his scribbling. Riza had at first tried to sneak peeks at what he was writing, but after continuously being denied, had simply stopped.

"Who are you writing to?" she suddenly piped up, trying to snatch one of the letters out of the slowly growing pile at his side.

He slapped her hand lightly with his pen and pushed the pile further away from her. "My cousins and my aunt. They wouldn't appreciate if I just stopped my mail to all of them into one letter, there is some private info between all of us that none of the others know anything about."

"Hmm…" Riza crossed her arms and slumped over the table. "Must be nice."

"A bit of a bother," he shrugged. "But it's nice to be trusted like that."

"Hmm…"

"I just said something stupid, didn't I?"

"Not really. Maybe if I'd been a different person it would have been." She tried for one of the letters again, only to have her hand swatted off. Again.

"Shush! Will you leave my private correspondence alone?"

"Never! It is my obligation to be as curious as possible about the affairs of your family!"

"Your obligation? Have you been drinking something you shouldn't, girl?"

"Don't call me that, it's demeaning." She pouted at him, once again lying on the table. "And no, I haven't"

"What do you mean demeaning? You are a girl!"

"I'm well aware of that, _boy_, but it robs me of my unique identity. Being called merely by your gender objectifies you and- Got one!" Suddenly she pulled up and away, a letter in hand and started to run. Roy sat for ten seconds, surprised at the change in subject, before realizing what had happened and bolting after her, clearing the table in a single leap.

**Roy is also an athletic child. =D And Riza has much self-awareness.**

**One of my personal pet-peeves is being called girl (or rather a Danish variant), so I plunked it in here.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	36. Dog

**Back to school it is… Why do I persist in writing these notes? They will make no sense in a matter of days!**

**36: Dog**

Hello, my name is Black Hayate, or just Hayate. That's what Master calls me anyway. The other dogs sometimes says that's odd, and that I should call her 'Mommy' and not 'Master', but that's really none of their business, so I ignore what they say.

Anyway, Master is the best there is. She's really strict, but she's patient and never ever asks more than I can give! She also lets me stay with her most of the time, and I know she hurries back to me when she can't. And when she takes me to that 'work' place where a lot of our friends are, she often gives me a bone with fresh, raw meat on it and marrow inside of it and all good bony-ness… Sorry, I digressed. But bones are just so delicious!

Anyway, in that place is a man, and he's like what the other dogs sometimes call 'Papa' and sometimes 'Master', but I already have a Master, so that'd be confusing. So I'll call this man Papa.

Papa is a good person. He really likes Mommy, like, REALLY like. More than I like bones and at least as much as I like Master, which is not something I say lightly. I'm willing to go through anything for Master, she's phenomenal! And so is Papa. I could once smell the pain he was in, but he put on a great show to convince Master that he was fine, even doing things that were just painful to show her he was fine, even though I could smell he wasn't. I doubt Master ever was fully convinced, but she couldn't smell his pain, so she had to trust him.

Sometimes I really wonder about humans. Why did they give up on their sense of smell to such a degree? It's so very useful and so much fun!

Sometimes Papa sits down and pats me on the head and tells me I'm a good dog, even though I haven't done anything, and then looks significantly at Master, like I'd done something to her… Maybe I did? No, that's just crazy. Master has always been this wonderful person! I just know that.

But… Maybe I unlocked it in her? No, of course not! I shouldn't be taking credit for something I didn't do. That's not a good thing to do. I've tried doing it once and Master thoroughly disciplined me for it. And I didn't even get to eat my booty, either… Sometimes Master is just a slight bit unfair. But only sometimes and only slightly!

But Papa seems to believe that I unlocked something in Master, and many other people certainly seem to look slightly differently at her after noticing me. I don't know why, they ought to be aware of how wonderful Master is. Maybe they haven't met her before? Papa certainly seems to have known Master since way before I came, and he REALLY liked her already then.

When I reached maturity I thought, for a short while, that they might be mates… But there was something all wrong with the smell between them, I came to realize. I think they'd both… Master's home! Master's home! Ooh, she smells upset… And hurt! Only slightly, but I'll need to comfort her anyway!

**Hayate is a cutie. ^_^ And yes, dogs unlock something in you. Something that will change you for the better… And if they don't there's just no helping you. True story, it's been proven.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	37. Match

**I can't think of anything to say…**

**37: Match**

"We sure are a match made in Hell," Mustang said with a weak laugh, sitting back to back with Hawkeye, letting her rest her head against the back of his.

"Hmm…" was all the Lieutenant responded with, her throat was sore and she wanted to rest as much as possible until the ambulances came.

"Would you argue?" She made a sound of denial. "Just look at the mess we made! At least, I think there's a mess to look at, I've no idea…"

"There is."

"Oh, that's good. We raised Hell, huh?"

"Blah…"

"If we hadn't all been so close to dying, and it hadn't been about what it was, it was almost even fun! You know, except for you almost bleeding to death, me losing my sight, and the whole country momentarily dying…If you know what I mean."

"Sir?" Hawkeye croaked blearily.

"Yes, what is it?" Mustang made a grab for her hand, and eventually found it after a while of gripping the stone and her thigh.

"If you don't shut up I'll fall asleep on you, and despite needing to relax I'm rather sure that there'd be a blizzard effect… Blah…"

"Oh, we can't have that! I was actually trying to keep you awake until help came, but if it's having the opposite effect…"

"Talk about something else."

"Do you remember that horse your father bought?"

"Flint?"

"Yes, that's the one. He just had the worst temper I've ever seen in a riding horse. Didn't your father buy him so you could get faster to and from town with more baggage?"

"Hmm…" Slight affirmative to her tone.

"I have no idea what the former owner told Master Hawkeye to make him buy that beast. Although he did seem to take an odd liking to you, almost like respect. With anyone else, it was a real fight to just get the hackamore on him. But for you he would stand still and quiet while you saddled him!"

"He just needed a firm hand, you wimp."

"Hey! I'm not keeping you awake just so you can insult me! Throw a blind man a bone, won't you?"

"I threw you a bone when I let you hold my hand."

"Touché. Thank you very much for your graceful boon, oh Lady mine. How can I ever repay you?"

"By not calling me yours anymore."

"Oh, sorry, no can do. See, remember that time by the birch tree?"

"I do."

"I still stand by that statement. I haven't quite succeeded as thoroughly as I'd like, but that doesn't change my mind."

"Nah…"

"Where are the ambulances, anyway?"

"Hmm…"

"As I was saying a long while ago, we're a match made in Hell. We can wreck absolute havoc and…"

"Sir, either let me sleep or shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

**Return of the conversation style! Mwahahahah! Ah, my heart isn't in it. Mommy just got home. ^_^**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	38. Mischief

**I… Really wish that… I was in the middle of saying something and then forgot. Holy crab! It worked!**

**38: Mischief**

The first time she had kissed him had been… Well, he hadn't seen it coming. Not that he could have, as he was blind.

That, and he really hadn't expected her to sit on his lap. Not that he complained mind, they had both known that it was coming, he had really needed to be cheered up and she had decided on a damned effective technique.

"Why, what mischief are you up to? That's very uncharacteristic of you," he chided gently, grinning like a maniac.

"Not mischief, Roy, healing," she had responded, noting his happy shiver at her use of his name. "And you're at least as far into this mischief as am I."

"But I didn't initiate it, Riza." His grin broadened as at last got to use her name. "Although I really should rectify that."

The second time she kissed him had been just after his proposal that he would kick her out of the military and then hire her as private bodyguard. And marry her sometime after the paperwork was through.

The very moment the words "you're fired, will you marry me" had officially left his mouth, she was kissing him, whispering yes every time she found the space and breath to do so.

The poor officer who had entered a that point got a very sharp "get out" and a bullet going right by his ear (just barely missing to more people before lodging in a wall).  
He hastily closed the door and told the person standing behind him, "Sorry, buddy, but the Fuehrer is up to some mischief."

The third time had been when he had handed her a new blue uniform, with a bogus rank placed on it and she had laughed at it. "Roy, you've just made me General-Sergeant!"

**… Stupidity.**

**I do seem to like putting them in the hospital… Anyway, there is no such thing as General-Sergeant (I'm pretty sure…), although there is a Sergeant Major General. And I do imagine that you can create pretty much any rank with those decorative thingies, even things that don't exist. You probably can't, though… And you also get my view on how Royai could become cannon.**

**Anyway please tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	39. Sly Person

**Ah-hah! … Nope, oops, lost it again. ^_^**

**39: Sly Person**

"You know that I will get what I want in the end anyway, don't you?" Mustang asked with a smirk on his lips.

"You're not very subtle for a sly person," Hawkeye responded, barely sparing the man a glance. "Sign these papers, please."

"I'm not trying to be subtle, not with you, anyway." He took the papers, but sighed when he saw what they were about. "You drive me hard, Lieutenant."

"It isn't necessary or you just can't be bothered?" Hawkeye tapped the end of her pen into the table thrice. "If I didn't, you would be rewarded for your laziness."

"Neither, it'd be a wasted effort. You can see right through any masquerade I might try to erect." With a sigh, Mustang set to sign the papers, not even bothering to read them through. Trusting that Hawkeye had already scanned them for importance. "You ought to at least reward me when I work, then?"

"I will take it as a compliment then, Sir. Thank you very much." With a sudden display of interest, Hawkeye rested her cheek in her hand and turned her face towards him. "As you yourself said, you will eventually get what you want anyway. Why do you think that is?" "No need for thanks, Hawkeye. I only say what's true." He dismissed her remark with a wave of his hand. "I assume it's because you can only resist my charms for so long before giving in."

Hawkeye snorted, almost in laughter. "Hardly. You can consider that a reward."

Mustang's pen fell from numb fingers and he turned slowly to look at her.

"Back to work."

"You…" he whispered, then suddenly he laughed. "Hawkeye, you are much slyer than anyone suspected!"

"Not even you?"

"I never even thought you had a sly bone in your body."

**Sly is such a difficult word to work with… -_-' Sorry, RealityBitez, tried to write it in conversation style. Anyway, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	40. Half

**40: Half** Riza blinked at the cake sitting innocently on the table. Or, well, the half a cake sitting innocently on the table. Even in its halved form, it was still quite an impressive size, which was what prompted the incredulous look she then drilled into the boy sitting across the table grinning proudly. "Mister Mustang… What have you done now?"

"What?" the grin immediately disappeared, replaced by incredulous surprise. "No! I haven't done anything! Sheesh, why do you think I've done something?"

"Because there's half a cake on the table. You always bribe your way out of trouble with sweets." She didn't bother saying 'try', he always succeeded.

"Well, yeah, it is rather effective… But this time I swear I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Then why the cake?" The blonde squatted, her narrowed eyes just barely peeking over the table. She was tempted to poke the cake to see if it was just a trick.

Roy suppressed a snicker at the sight; that girl really was too cute for her own good, one of these days it might very well get her in trouble…

"The cake isn't a lie, Riza." She pouted at the sound of her name, which Roy insisted on using despite her father's warning. "It really is a genuine pastry."

"Hmm… Why?"

"Just found out when your birthday is."

"That's quite an accomplishment, mister Mustang, as I'm not even sure of when it is."

"Okay, so that was a lie. I just wanted to give you a cake."

"Even for you, that is unusually illogical."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That it's rare for you to ever do something with a good reason."

"Yet you expected me to bribe my way out of trouble by the most effective means at my disposal? You're contradicting yourself, Riza."

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Riza? Because it's your name. And, besides," he added with a shrug. "I like it. It's a good, strong name, yet markedly feminine."

"You have an odd obsession with the feminine."

"Let's hope that's not going to become a problem."

"Oh, don't waste your breath, it will."

"You can be very pessimistic. Are you doing it on purpose?"

"No… At least I don't think so. Father's back."

"Oh, good! Maybe he wants the cake."

Master Hawkeye took one step into the room, cast one look at the cake, and said, "Better cook lightly tonight, Riza, otherwise we won't be able to eat all that cake." Then he left the kitchen for his study. "Come along now, Roy, we need to get at least a bit of studying in before the day ends."

Roy left, turning around to flash Riza a grin and a thumbs-up before leaving.

The girl looked at the cake with a sigh. "Guess it's just you and me now…" Why was she talking to half a cake?

**I would be wondering about that, too, if I were her. Were or was? Dunno, best in my English class, but don't know if that says much… But, LOL, my teachers compliment my English (my maths teacher started it, oddly enough…)**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	41. Coat

**41: Coat**

"You should wear a coat."

"I didn't want to."

"So you'd rather freeze?"

"…"

"Well?"

"Shut up, mister Mustang."

"What? Oh, come on, Riza! I thought we'd progressed beyond that!"

"Not anymore we haven't."

"No wonder you don't freeze. You're cold!"

"Stop mocking me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I admire you far too much to ever do such a thing."

"Get your face out my way."

"You have such a way with words."

"I'm not convinced. You're still only two centimetres from my face."

"My vantage point is too good. Whoa- Hey, where are you going? Stop that, Ri- God why are you running forward now?"

"To get some distance from you! You were creeping me out."

"All right, all right! Just stop, please! I'll keep my distance."

"You're so lazy."

"You're in freakishly good shape. Oi, don't look so cocky."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"That smile of yours. Drop it, or I'll have to tickle you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You bet I would! And because you're not wearing a coat, it'll be all the easier for me."

"You'd have to catch me first, though."

"But not for long."

"… You look evil when you smile like that."

"Better start running, sweet heart, or I will do more than just look evil."

"Yes sir!"

***Facedesk* Behold the lack of coat! And… This song is bloody addictive. No idea why… Anyway, you better like, or else!**

**I will send little-Roy after you… To tickle you into submission! =)**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	42. Day Off

**Can't… Work with this prompt… I sometimes wish I wasn't so fixed on writing them in order. -_-' I suppose I could always pull a chap. 19 again, but…**

**42: Day Off**

Hawkeye did not like taking days off. It was an occasional necessity, or she would never have any food in the house. Or have any time to look at the bills, or have anything unpacked, or… Well, there was a point to them, but she didn't have to like them.

The happy side-effect of this was that she had plenty of spare vacationing time she could literally put to use whenever she saw fit. Such as when needing to sit in tower and keeping watch over Falman's apartment… Or when (damn it) she had forgotten about her personal paperwork and very quickly set to fixing her bills. Luckily, she was very proficient in taking care of such matters…

There had been occasions when she had, quite literally, been forced to take a day off. By Mustang. Who had also taken the day off and had grabbed her by the arm before the main gate and cavorted off with her (only barely remembering to drop a subtle hint that he'd actually filed her as having the day off), talking animatedly about anything and nothing. At once.  
Hawkeye was impressed despite herself.

She could, to some degree, understand why he insisted on doing it. Her father had worked himself to death, it wasn't too much of a stretch that she would, too, especially in times as stressful as these.

She still wished he wouldn't do it… She just never had it in her heart to tell him that, his eyes simply sparkled too earnestly with happiness.

That, and Hayate was all too happy to get a chance to frolic in the park.

**I told you I couldn't work with it! T_T And I'm obviously sleepy enough to overdo EVERYTHING I DO! !**

**I just wanted to press the 'A' button…**


	43. Wind

**43: Wind**

It was an unusually beautiful day, with petals dancing on a wind flowing to a tune it made itself, and a bright sun casting its light hither and thither from a ridiculously blue sky. Flowers, still with their bloom intact, nodded to the heartbeat of the very earth as the wind caressed them with the delighted touch of a child. Birds sang sweetly, declaring their pride and greatness to all who listened, proclaiming their capacity for fatherhood to all the shy females sitting in the bushes, listening to every note sung. The grass as green as the sky was blue whispered with laughter as the wind brushed through its long hair with all the loving delight of an enamoured husband to his young bride.

Amid all this splendour, walked two soldiers. Their jaded eyes saw none of the bright colours, their mouths pulled not into smiles but into pained frowns, instead of bright and merry sounds, they heard only gunshots, roaring flames, dying screams, the cries of children, and shouted orders violently ripping anything remotely like quiet asunder. Rather than emerald green grass, they saw blood-soaked earth, clotting and permanently discolouring with the moist and metal of the blood. They even could not smell the sweet flowers, but only the bitter metal of blood and the unnatural scorch of burned humans.

It was rare that they allowed such a state of melancholy to swallow them, to grapple at them in nigh successful attempts at drowning them in despair. But even on days of unusual beauty, it was hard to ignore the scars fighting a war of extermination left on the soul.

Suddenly the man stopped, tearing his eyes from the ground as he hoped to escape the nauseating sensation of disgust the memories inspired. When he found that the sky overhead was brighter than he ever remembered it being, he was snapped out of his depressed stupor and became aware of the wind dancing around him, whispering sweetly in his ears, stroking his hair softly, and filling his nose with the sweetest of scents. He looked down and around, and for the first time he saw the brightly coloured flower nodding along with the music of the wind, saw the merrily green grass swaying around him, and saw the proud songbirds, snapping their wings as they gaily flew to and fro. He noticed how unusually beautiful the day truly was.

When he spotted his companion once more, still steeped in her morose recollections, walking with her hair of spun gold loose about her slumped shoulders, he ran towards her, embracing her waist from behind before she had fully roused and immediately spun about in a haphazard waltz of abandon. Once he was certain she no more dwelled on the past and that her amber eyes were focused on him, he set her down and bade her see their surroundings, begged her to sense the wind and all the scents it carried to them.

He stroked her hair, catching it as it attempted to flee with stronger winds and glinted tantalizingly in the sun. Once, daringly, he brought the strands to his lips to caress. If she had seen him do that, she would surely have flushed with anger, and although the prospect of playing a game of chase with her was alluring, he did not wish for her to be shadowed by anger.

With a sudden brightly lit grin he strode past her, grabbing her hand as he went, praying of her if she would not go along with his folly and indulge him with such a game?  
Wordlessly she answered by tapping his shoulder and turning as swiftly as she might and running away.

Towards the far-off horizon, beneath a ridiculously blue sky, ran two adults like children would, catching each other in an embrace, faces alight with breathless laughter they would instantly continue their game. Forgetting their dark and dirty pasts for the moment, shedding the skin of veteran soldiers, they forgave each other and themselves that they may enjoy a few moments of stolen folly on a day of unusual beauty.

**… I am very satisfied with this… Immensely. I feel such warmth at this moment, such contentment as I've never before experienced, that I can fault nothing. Later, I may find flaws.**


	44. Hair

**I have been looking forward to this, because long hair is dead sexy. XD**

**44: Hair**

The boar-bristle brush smoothed over the shimmering gold hair, gently picking up loose hair and loosening tangles. The hand which held it was calloused from scars and manual work but the grip was gentle, as was the caress following the brush.

A weak chuckle escaped the blonde.

"What's so funny?" Roy Mustang asked, smiling hugely himself. How could he not?

Riza Hawkeye twisted in her seat to look Roy in the eye. "You really weren't kidding when you said that you wouldn't be able to keep your hands away if I grew my hair out."

"No, but can you blame me? After all, long hair is ever so sexy…" he leaned in for a kiss.

Riza smiled teasingly. "Oh? So… Edward is sexy by your definition?"

The effects were immediate. Roy froze between two breaths, his eyes widened to the size of saucers and his mouth slowly fell open till it threatened to dislocate. Then he slammed his head down onto the bed, letting out an agonized groan in the process. "Was it absolutely necessary to mention that pipsqueak?" he ground out.

(Far away in Risembool, Ed felt the pressing need to loudly declare that he wasn't a pea-sized shrimp. His wife proved, however, to be too great a distraction.)

Riza started to laugh, unable to keep her eyes open with the sheer effort it took to not fall over due to merriment. "No, not really," she gasped out, pulling herself together long enough to peek at him through one eye. "But it was just too good a chance to resist!"

"Sweetheart, I would never deny you of anything that makes you laugh, but any combination of you and a sexy pipsqueak, a sexier you" (Riza let out a small snort at the disguised compliment.) "and that kid, or any which two of those four and our bedroom makes me hurt more than a knee to my privates. So, love of my life," very seriously, he slid to the floor and knelt before her, holding one of her hands in his and gazed into her eyes with unwavering determinedness. "If ever you bring such a thought to my attention again, I reserve the right to braid your hair in public."

Riza lost all composure again, doubling over as she laughed, touching his forehead with her own. It took much effort, but Roy managed not to laugh along with her. "You really love this 'public displays of affections'-thing, don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do. But, to be fair, I am restraining myself from jumping onto the tallest building in the city to declare my love for you every day. You ought to reward my self-restraint!"

She pressed a light kiss to his lips. "I thought I already did. But, since you insist…"

**A reference to EdWin in there. =D I never was a big shipper of the main pairing in a story, although there have been exceptions…**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, although it broke my pattern of first names = childhood chapter and surnames = adult chapter, but this was too intimate for surnames. Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	45. Awakening

**Dah! =D Do you like what I write? No? Then what the skittles are you doing so far in? Oh, you said "yes"? Then I love ya! =D**

**45: Awakening**

The sun tickled his eyes, making him start awake. A weight on his chest, however, kept him from bolting upright. For a moment, he groggily grasped for a reason why there was something heavy on him. Then he opened his eyes and looked-

Straight into the most beautiful, warm amber he had ever seen framed by the purest of spun gold.

Riza Hawkeye smiled lazily at him, looking rather feline. She chuckled at his daring when he hesitantly put the other arm around her waist in a hug (he doesn't remember the other wounding around her, but, then again, he doesn't remember getting in bed with her either), but didn't move to protest.

"Lieutenant, don't misunderstand me… But what are you doing in my bed?" he asked warily, hastily checking with small movements to make sure he was clothed. They were.

She hummed thoughtfully. "You said you wanted me to be the first thing you saw in the morning, and it got rather tiresome after the first hour to just wait for you to wake up… You didn't seem to mind when I slipped in?" A question; did he mind now?

"Oh. I still don't, it was just… Unexpected. You look beautiful."

She let out a small sigh and started to extract herself, only to stop when he tightened his grip. She sighed heavily. "Believe me, Colonel, when I say you want to let me up."

"Please, just let me hold on to this awakening a little longer…" His voice was soft with an emotion beyond his comprehension, his eyes shining with adoration and his smile trembling with longing.

The rays of the morning sun danced on her hair, causing shimmering where it landed, and brought a warmth and softness to her face he otherwise had to fight to see. If ever he lost his sight again, he was happy he had at least seen this. His hand shook as he raised it to, carefully, tenderly, brush it against her cheek.

He had barely finished the movement before she slipped out of his embrace and into her own bed. She had barely managed to slip beneath the covers when the door opened and a (shirtless, of course) Major Armstrong burst in with a loud morning greeting trailed by Rebecca Catalina and four nurses, the former instantly offering a cheerful greeting and the latter scolding the officer ineffectively only to realize the futility five minutes into the visit and walk away.

Later in the day, Fuery and Breda also visited, bringing Havoc with them from his room farther down the hall. To her dismay, Hawkeye had slept through the first half of that, and got some bemused stares for looking ruffled by sleep when she drew back the curtain to join the conversation.

When night fell, Mustang snuck into her bed and hovered above her for a long moment, with her hand on his chest to restrain him. She could see his cocky smile clearly despite the weak moonlight which brought odd grey highlights to his hair and made his eyes appear darker.

She smiled the smile that meant more to him than a thousand words ever could, making him certain he could lean down and offer her the gentlest, most profound caress he had ever offered in his life.

She accepted it, accepted him, with joy and offered even more in return.

**Yay! Done! =D The beginning felt awkward… And it was supposed to stop there, but then I decided to keep on going until nightfall, and I thought it became better for it. ^_^**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.**


	46. All Night Vigil and Sleepless Night

**It's late for me! =D**

**46: All Night Vigil/Sleepless Night**

Sometimes when he could not sleep, for whatever reason he was plagued by that night, he would swing by Hawkeye's apartment. Sometimes, he would just stand outside the building, staring at the door. Sometimes he would walk up to the door and stand before it, occasionally raising his hand as if to knock. Sometimes, he did.

Sometimes she would stay asleep, too tangled in her dreams to hear the soft sound, dulled further by his glove. He would wait five minutes before sighing, and promising he would go back after just two more minutes. He would go home, slowly, after ten more minutes.

But, sometimes, she would wake up and would open the door. Then she would invite him in and offer him a cup of tea, they'd spend half the night either talking or playing a game of cards. Sometimes, they would do both.

Once the tea was gone, he would sometimes go home, sometimes he would ask if he could sleep on the couch (always if it was raining). Sometimes when he started to go home, she would grab his hand and just look at it for a while, sliding her thumb over the back until he raised them both and planted a light kiss on her knuckles. They would always ignore that exchange.

Sometimes he would fall asleep on her couch after having settled down nice and comfortably. Sometimes he would wait until after she had fallen asleep, staring at the stars in case they might lull him to sleep while waiting, before he would slip into her room and watch over her until the first touch of pink appeared on the horizon.

Sometimes he would be daring in the early hours of the morning, and he would kiss her on the temple before heading into her kitchen to make breakfast. Sometimes he would not feel so daring and would just sit for another few minutes before starting on the breakfast.

Sometimes he would just go home.

He never imagined that he would ever be using a sleepless night, all of that night, just standing outside her apartment, alternating between being just outside her door and by the side of the road, keeping vigil over her as his insides twisted in agonizing worry. Sometimes, he would think that if they survived this, he would stay awake for two nights in a row just to stare at her all night long.

He did do just that after he regained his sight. Although as she woke up halfway through the second night a firmly told him to go to bed and fall asleep (hers, if necessary), maybe it did not really count.

Sometimes, he would stay up half the night and just watch her sleep. Even after ten years of marriage, seeing her tranquil still made him feel safer than anything else ever could.

**This prompt should have been "Sometimes". Goodnight. =)**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	47. In the Dead of Night

***Sigh* I tire easily…**

**47: In the Dead of Night**

She had spend countless nights sitting in the kitchen and staring at the sky as a child. She didn't know why. She didn't particularly like the sky or the stars… But she often found herself straining against sleep to stare at the tiny pinpricks of light as they winked at her, seeming almost to grow as she stared mesmerized at them.

Sometimes she wouldn't realize how much time had passed until a faint pink glow appeared on the horizon and Father's apprentice stumbled down the stairs, groggy with sleep.

He seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier as time progressed, almost as if he wanted to see how early she woke up.

He had once come down in the dead of night, trying to stumble as quietly as he could. He'd seemed somewhere between dismayed and pleasantly surprised at seeing her at the table.

Then she'd offered to make him a cup of tea and had asked about his recent habit of getting up before morning.

He had, nervously, stammered through a confession of how he became happy when he saw her so early in the morning. He'd left out several details, of course, like the sort of his happiness.

She gave him an odd look as she placed his tea in front of him. "I think you should get more sleep, mister Mustang," she said, matter-of-factly. "At least if you intend to keep me company in the early hours regularly."

**Did you know the -ly ending to fact wasn't accepted until I wrote matter-of-factly? Hyphens and all. I don't know whether I'm satisfied with this or not… In part, I'm not going to change it, but another part thinks it's just not good enough.**

**Oh well, please tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	48. Side of Face

**Hello again, dearest readers! Do you like the new summary?**

**I'm in a good mood. I've been reading "damnyouautocorrect . Com" and it is absolutely hilarious! Under their "best of dyac" section, go to the bottom of page 41 if you want to see the one that made me laugh the hardest. ; -)**

**Slight warning, though, iPhones are very vulgar.**

**48: Side of Face**

She had developed the rather odd quirk of turning her face whenever she laughed at him. Or, well, she didn't laugh at him. He supposed she could control her mirth better because she turned away.

He didn't mind, not really. He wasn't exactly flattered or pleased that she thought something he'd done or said was so funny she couldn't look at him for fear of laughing, but he appreciated that she was happy and that he could get to see her in profile.

One might think he did that often enough, but that was incorrect. Besides, he'd never turn down a chance to look at her. If she wasn't trying to keep herself under control, she would always angle herself slightly towards him, if not fully. She liked to face him straight on as much as possible, or not at all, turning completely away from him.

She hadn't done that in their adolescence, she had just doubled over laughing. Or something less extravagant. Like pinching her nose closed with the fingers of the hand she also used to cover her smile while she slowly grew a very cheery (cherry) scarlet. He comforted himself, at the time, by thinking about how funny she herself looked (it didn't work, but he didn't want to think about that).

Nevertheless, he had to wonder what was going on when she, throughout dinner, kept turning away at seemingly random intervals to stifle chuckles with very little success.

"What, if I may ask," he started cautiously, getting her attention. "Is so funny?"

She turned to look at him swallowing a troupe of giggles. She opened her mouth, to answer, he presumed, only to snort with laughter instead and doubled over, unable to keep a straight face.

Well, that was informative.

"Really, Riza, what is going on?" he asked, getting rather sulky.

She hiccupped. "Your moustache," she choked out after a while, red as a lobster from ear to ear. "It looks ridiculous!" Then she collapsed again, nearly falling off her chair twice before hurrying out of the room to compose herself, leaving her flabbergasted husband behind.

How could she _not_ appreciate the moustache?

**Had to comment on the moustache. XD **

**I don't know about you, but I grow red as a lobster when I laugh (semi)hard and when it's hot. The latter led to an Italian men yelling at my dad for letting me wander around in heat like that.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**

**LOL, squirrel meat…**


	49. Cold Hands

**49: Cold Hands**

Her hand was so cold in his. That was the only thing he could focus on. He couldn't see, all was dark. He couldn't see if she was breathing. It frightened him. She could be dead, since her hand was so cold and he daren't try to wake her up she were only sleeping, she needed rest to heal and what if she didn't heal because he kept waking her up whenever her hands felt cold and he couldn't see her breathe?

He was pathetic.

Her fingers moved, only slightly, but of their own volition and his heart nearly leapt into his throat and he held his breath, sitting completely still in case it had just been his imagination. She didn't move again.

Worriedly he started to trail his hand up her arm, moving at a snail's pace. It might just have been his imagination, but her hand was getting colder. It was a horrid minute before his fingers finally came to rest against her pulse, to weak to be felt in her wrist. But there it was! The flutter of blood rushing through her veins with her heartbeat.

He never thought something so simple could make him want to faint with joy.

Her hand was still ever so cold.

**Hum… Don't know if I like ending here, but anything else I think of is too cheesy. I do not appreciate cheese! D=**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	50. Fingertips

**WE'RE HALFWAY! =D LET THERE BE CELEBRATION IN ALL THE STREETS AND EVERY HOME OF THE KINGDOM!**

**Or something less extravagant.**

**50: Fingertips**

"Mister Mustang would you - Mustang- Roy!" Riza batted his hand away for the umpteenth time, swivelling about to glare at him.

He grinned, as roguishly charming and handsome as ever, tilting his head slightly, making the sun catch and glimmer in his eyes. "Yes, Riza?"

"Stop touching me!" She whacked at his hand with a scowl. "How am I supposed to concentrate when - Oh, for God's sake!"

"You're not supposed to concentrate," he sounded peevish. "Besides, you're distracting me just as badly."

"How is that - stop that - possible? I'm sure you'd do a lot better if you'd just keep your fingers to yourself and - will you at least stop while I'm talking to you?" She caught his hand and held it, glaring at him with burning eyes.

He smiled benignly, squeezing her fingers slightly. "If you insist."

"I've done nothing but insist! What is this-" she froze suddenly, mid-sentence. He was patting her on the head. "Stop that!"

He ignored her trailing his fingers down the side of her face, holding them still under her chin, smiling teasingly at the firm, stubborn, proud set of her mouth and eyes. In a sudden movement, he brought his hand up to his mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers and then touching them to her lips, reversing the grip they had on each other's hands so he was gripping hers.

Just as she was about to lash back at him, he turned and fled, letting her hand fall as he ran out of the room and into her father's study.

Just in time for his lesson. The one she daren't interrupt.

She couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't just talk to her, but insisted on a hundred little touches to do his talking.

**And I've got no explanation! =D I hated this prompt from the get-go! Just like I hate my internet at the moment! It keeps coming and going. Or maybe I should be mad at my computer? I haven't been very nice to it, so I wouldn't be surprised if it had a hard time working… Just tried to go online to look at a new computer when I remembered why I wanted a new one to begin with. Felt rather stupid. =p**

**Anyway! Been reading a "new" manga, yes I have! Kekkaishi is its name. "New" in the sense that I started reading it not too long ago, but it's a finished product, so…**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked and thank your god for copy/paste. ^_^**


	51. Embracing From the Back

**The internet is still not working in moment of writing. I must write Royai to preserve the shredded remains of my sanity - I fear**

**Wait, this isn't a diary! Oops… Disregard above.**

**51: Embracing From the Back**

Her back was an elephant in whatever room the two of them were alone together in. In part because of the message once wrought on it and in part because of what had come to replace the blood-red ink.

The scars, the permanent splotches of darker, rougher skin that seemed to taunt them with the pain they had caused for days, weeks and months whenever she had stretched her back. It still hurt on days when the weather was just so or her stress level had been higher than normal for a few days. They taunted by having been caused by the secret they concealed. They taunted by being necessary, but without ever coming to use. They taunted by being so very ugly when goodness only knew that they (even she, much though he loathed admitting it) had enough imperfections without them. They taunted by their very existence. They taunted by being something he couldn't hate, by being a part of her and of their history.

She knew, of course, how he would wince just as badly as she when the damaged skin sent sharp tendrils of pain through her, even after she had learned to hide the pain did he wince (it freaked her out a little, but she preferred to keep him unaware of that).

They never talked about it.

Still, they tried to communicate the importance to each other. He apologizing by embracing her from the back and she forgiving him (or trying to get it through to him that she had forgiven him a long time ago) by letting him.

**… Hawkeye is so cold. O_o Which isn't right. I'm confused.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked.**


	52. Hair Clip

**52: Hair Clip**

It took her a while before she noticed that her hair clip had been smashed and had left a bump on the back of her head as it went.

The only reason she did notice was because she had rubbed her neck more as a gesture to calm herself and keep the adrenaline spike away a bit than because something had tickled, only to realize her hair moved wrong against her fingers.

She'd had to fight not to simply drift into thoughts like that, it would plunk her right into the comfortable freeze, where she'd lose sensation in her extremities and would drift into irrelevant thoughts. She would end up just standing with a drowsy look on her face, staring into nothing.

She had seen it happen often enough, mostly to rookies, and remembered the experience herself. It was dangerous, in large part because it felt safe, comfortable and you thought so clearly you couldn't possibly be zoned out.

She wasn't used to close combat, it messed up the control she had on herself.

Mustang put a hand on her arm, causing them to fall back slightly. Once a fair bit behind the others he looked at her very seriously.

"Your hair is loose."

She nodded, gravely. "I just noticed myself, sir." They sounded ridiculously serious considering the topic.

"It looks very impractical. I'll buy you a new hair clip when this is over with."

"If you insist."

"Thank you for humouring me, Lieutenant."

"As always, sir."

**I hate this prompt! XD Absolutely nothing to like about it. I don't even like what I turned out.**

**The whole first part was drawn from "Violence: A Writer's Guide" by Rory Miller. A scary but good book for anyone who wants to write about people who either work with violence or are exposed to it during the story.**

**Right, as always, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked and I'm very sorry about not having uploaded in forever. XD**


	53. Sigh

**I am so tired of school... And I miss writing fanfiction, it's fun. **

**53: Sigh**

It was one of those days when the air moved in little sighs that barely brushed by your neck and stirred your hair, when the ridiculously blue sky seemed close enough to touch if you stretched just a little higher... It was on that day you changed for the worse.

You thought you'd been prepared, that you had been warned often enough, that you knew what it meant.

How naïve. You were a child. A sad, broken child deserving of pity, but you nevertheless miss the remnants of innocence you never knew you retained.

Its loss shows in your eyes.

You barely moved one finger, yet that's what made everything change. Pitiful? Sad? Ironic? Neither, perhaps. It was probably a false statement anyway. You did more than simply pull a trigger.

He was young. Old enough to be married, maybe with a child, but he was probably still someone's child. How could you?

Ah, and what a beautiful day it had been, too. With only the wind sighing mournfully in the wake of your shot, the sun paling as it realisation of what occurred beneath its light came to it. Had the sun been as ignorant as you?

**I'm starting to freak myself out with this... I don't know where the second person form came from and I don't know why it was something so unspecific.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. =)**


	54. O Child-Sama

**I don't know what's with this prompt.**

**54: O Child-Sama**

They had the strangest conversations after dark.

Usually they would have them in Easter HQ after having to stay late due to paperwork, sometimes to keep themselves from going crazy at the amount of papers they had already looked at all day and still had left on their desks, sometimes they just decided that a bit of extra work would be the perfect reason to play a game of cards (chess was no fun when it was glaringly obvious who would win) and talk while doing so.

"So," Mustang said while shuffling his deck for a third game. "Do you want children?"

Hawkeye, used to the meandering path his thoughts travelled in at this time of night (they had been talking about goldfish of all things just moments before) shrugged and started to deal the cards in her hands. "Yes and no. You?" Flip the top, two face-down underneath, repeat until there were four similar piles in two parallel lines between them, one laid by her and one by him.

"Ah, you're going to have to elaborate your answer." He counted off thirteen cards from the remaining pile and placed it face up. Her pile had the higher card, she started.

"Yes, I like the idea of having children, in a way I do want some. No, I don't know if I would make a fit parent." She shrugged again, moved an ace in between the two lines and flipped the card underneath. "Besides, I haven't exactly got a line of father candidates lined up at my door."

"I doubt you'd have much trouble finding, ah, candidates, though."

"No comment." She flipped the top card of the piles made of the remaining cards. It couldn't go anywhere on the table so she laid it down, face up, in front of the pile. "You still haven't answered."

He snorted and began his turn. "'No comment'? What's that supposed to mean?" He looked up at her, smirking playfully, only to cringe when she gave him a dead-pan stare. "Right, no answer. Yes, I do want kids, provided I find the right woman. And the world ever becomes a place I can bring a child into with good conscience. But maybe that's just an excuse to stop fearing love."

Hawkeye shook her head and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear (she didn't remember exactly when she had removed the clip, but was quite happy she had). "That is without a doubt the cheesiest thing you've ever said, Roy."

He grinned, his eyes flashing teasingly. "What would you name your hypothetical children?"

"Not a clue. I've arrived at the conclusion I'll decide when I meet them."

"I want to name one after your father."

"Oh God, no!" Hawkeye exclaimed, aghast, dropping the hand she had just picked up a card with to the table with a _thump_. "You can't do that!"

"What? Do you want to do that? I thought you said-"

"I don't. But you can't _do_ that to a child. Berthold is a ridiculous name!"

Mustang burst out laughing, doubling over the table and slamming a hand on it to keep from falling off his chair.

"I'm serious, Roy. Don't do it. I'll kidnap the kid if you do that!" She looked as serious s ever, only making Mustang laugh harder.

"What would you call him?" he managed to choke through the chortles. "Name him after me?"

"No, that's just tacky. Naming a child after a parent. No, maybe I'd call him Edward-"

Mustang's guffawing was cut short by a sudden horrified gasp and he nearly fell to the floor. "No! Please, Riza, anything but that! I promise I won't name my kids anything that hasn't been pre-approved by you just as long as you promise me you won't kidnap one and name him for that pipsqueak! You can kidnap as many as you want, just don't call any of them Edward! Please, I'm begging you!"

It was Hawkeye's turn to laugh.

**Roy and Riza are playing one of my favourite games... I don't know if it has an English name, though. It's a sort of solitaire, but considering the list of solitaires Wikipedia offered, I'll stay blissfully ignorant... Unless someone knows and feels like sharing. It's almost midnight here and I'm listening epically, rousing, battle OSTs... And writing... I think I might be an idiot.**

**Anyway, it took three false starts and a bit of whining to finally get this one written, so I hope you like it. Review!**


	55. Infectious Crying

**I got a new sound system. It is epic! =D It's got a separate subwoofer and all! Cheap for quality, too. Subwoofer is pointed at the floor, though... My feet are tingling. ^_^ And it's hilarious when you're surrounded by this epic music and it ends, there's silence for all of two seconds before...**

**A car honks. =D**

**55: Infectious Crying**

His eyes were closed, he breathed deeply, trying to keep his excitement and anticipation in check. He'd waited so long for this opportunity.

He could hear the others talk to each other and decide to leave him alone to face this. Well, him and Hawkeye. The nurses had yelled at her the last time she'd exerted herself. She'd protested that stretching her limbs at a sedate pace was hardly exerting, the reply to which should be immortalized: "I bloody well decide what's exerting! And, sedate pace or not, doing _handstands_ are exerting!"

Mustang hadn't laughed so hard since Maes had declared Gracia's pregnancy and Hawkeye's reaction to same.

He took a deep breath, keenly aware of Hawkeye's attention. She was waiting patiently, or perhaps not, for him to gather his courage.

No time like the present. He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes on the final rush and-

Yelped.

He almost wished he'd cried out in pain. It would've been more dramatic.

Instead, he rubbed his eyes, wincing. His eyes, so used to dark, protested all the colours and lights assaulting them with all the gleeful ferocity of children pouncing on a favourite uncle.

"Sir?" The worry in her voice immediately caught his attention, making him spin to look at her.

And yelped again. "You're glowing!" he exclaimed, barely able to see through the tears rising in his eyes.

Hawkeye halted at his exclamation, caught halfway out of bed. She wavered, not sure whether she should go to him or sit back down. He started to laugh, wiping the tears out of his eyes as best he could.

"You're glowing, Hawkeye! I can see you and you're glowing like an angel!" He kept laughing, he was just too happy to stop.

She smiled and sat back down.

He got up, still laughing his heart out, and started to dance. Right into a wall. He kept laughing, patting the wall, turned, walked over to his bed with sure steps and gripped the railing.

"Isn't the world beautiful? Right at this moment, isn't it just the most marvellous thing?" he asked of her, looking right at her with a face-splitting grin.

"Yes," she responded, smiling. "It truly is." A tear slipped down her cheek. It tickled.

**Is it just me, or is it hard to concentrate on being upset while crying?**

**I know, not much crying going on. But so what?**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**


	56. Skilful and Clumsy

**56: Skilful and Clumsy**

Riza followed Roy's movements through her kitchen nervously with her eyes. She knew he wasn't a particularly clumsy boy, and she trusted him when he said he knew his way around a kitchen, but it was _her_ domain. She couldn't help but worry about it as her father's apprentice flitted about, every once in a while casting her a stern glance to make sure she stayed seated.

Her bottom lip was getting quite sore from the amount of chewing she was doing on it.

"Miss Hawkeye!" Roy snapped, turning to face her with his hands on his hips and a stern frown in place. "I assure you I can handle myself without blowing your kitchen to smithereens! Stop worrying, it's not conductive to healing."

She tried to hold it in, but she started giggling. He was wearing an apron, scolding her with his hands on his hips, so very maternal of him!

"And stop laughing at me, or you're not getting any dinner."

She started guffawing.

He sniffed disdainfully.

She laughed harder, silenced by her lack of breath.

"Fine! No dinner it is. Go to your room!" His voice raised an octave into a screeching falsetto at the end.

It was all Riza could do to stay perched on the chair.

"Mercy!" she gasped. "Please! Have mercy!"

"Oh?" he countered, his voice still pitched high. "That's a new tune."

Riza finally brought her laughter under control, hiccuping a giggle from time to time. "Isn't it, though? Normally, I have you at my mercy."

"Yes..." he drawled, eyes glinting with malicious glee as he rubbed his hands together. "This turn of the tables... pleases me immensely." His voice was still set in the falsetto. "I finally have you at my mercy!" He dropped the high pitch in favour of a dramatic belly-laugh that sounded entirely false, as if coming from a third-rate actor playing the villain in a bad farce.

It provoked her into a new fit of giggles.

"Ah, you think me harmless!" The falsetto was back in full force. "But lo! I have you yet again under my influence... Dancing under my subtle influence!"

"Subtle?!" she gasped, her injured hand hurting from how hard she was grabbing her splitting sides. "You are not!"

Roy pouted epically. "You will concede my point..." he hissed, trying and failing to sound like a hypnotist. "You will agree with me..."

"I will not," she sniffed, trying for a moment to appear dignified. Then her returning laughter ruined that attempt.

"Keep that up and I really will send you to your room, you spoiled girl!" he shrieked, shaking his hand for emphasis.

"How can you not laugh at yourself?" How did she manage to ask?

"I'm just that good!"

"At acting the fool," her laughter had subsided enough to let her talk, at long last. "Not at cooking, certainly." She pointed to the stove, whereupon much of their food was getting to be burned.

Roy let out an exclamation that was certainly improper in his current company, before jumping over to turn off the gas.

"Well," he said, chagrined. "Do you think your father will notice?"

Hawkeye did notice, and commented upon it by giving his apprentice a reproachful glare and wishing his daughter a swift recovery.

The two exchanged glances, then sniggered when Roy couldn't quite help mouthing "I'm good".

**What is Roy good at? What happened to Riza's arm? How come Roy is so good at playing the villain? Want to know what's a good book? How can a pout be epic? I don't know, but I'm guessing it has to do with a lot of background lightning.**

**Goodness, it took me long enough to actually finish this! I'm not quite sure what it has to do with the prompt, though.**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^**

**Ah, apropos review. I put a piece of my most recent mind regarding reviews on my profile. It probably comes across as a piece of diatribe, but I hope not. I'd like you to read it, but I have no way of forcing you, even if I wanted to, so you shouldn't feel pressured, but know it might over-all help you become a better reviewer. Or not. What do I know?**


	57. Feigning Sleep

**I'm probably taking more than a lot of liberties with the way weather works, but I never liked geography anyway.**

**57: Feigning Sleep**

She'd never actually slept through a thunderstorm. As a little child, hazy memories tell her, she would scream and cry till large hands and soft voices would come to soothe her, keep her safe from the noisy monsters of the night. At some point her guardians stopped coming, and she'd cry and scream till her voice gave out. It took some time before she realized that it didn't help, so she just gritted her teeth, stuck her head under the pillow and try to suppress her panic. Eventually, she had gotten the hang of it, had managed to creep out from under her blinds and relax her jaws, had managed to pretend she was asleep, pretend she wasn't counting every forced breath between the roars of celestial beasts.

Then a scrawny boy with scruffy black hair, perpetually squinting eyes and as much coordination as a five-minute-old kitten stumbled into her home. The first greeting he received was a glare, and she in turn got a pat on the head and a cooed declaration of cuteness. The second greeting he received was a kick to the shin.

She avoided him as much as possible for the next few weeks, which turned out to be quite possible. Easy, even.

Then a sudden, furious roar, that shook the world and tore the heavens wide open hauled, her from sleep.

The scream was, thankfully, choked and muffled by her duvet. She was distracted for a few moments, trying to figure out why she had been eating her duvet. Then the torrential rain slammed into her window with a sound almost like thunder itself as the savage wind howled like wild animals racing through the sharp branches, and she yelped.

She was staring warily at the glass when a flash of lightning lit up her bedroom, rendering shadows like hulking monsters.

She fled, very quickly and with only a yelp and the malicious howls of the wind to send her on her way, to the living room. As much of a sanctum from the outside as the old house had, with the exception of her father's study. She never went in there, however.

To her surprise, the living room wasn't swathed in darkness thick as flesh, but had one, small light fighting tenaciously in the centre, holding its meagre shield over the form of one gangly, black haired boy, lying with eyes closed and lips almost curved in a smile that transformed as she watched; he somehow managed to hold a book upright, giving her a view of an alchemical array, despite being apparently asleep.

She took a few, cautious steps into the room, expertly dodging a coffee table and sliding around an armchair. She stared at the sleeping boy, nearly three years her elder, with a transfixed intensity that should have worried her, except it did much to soothe her frazzled mind. She stood almost beside the couch he laid on when another roar from above tore through the night with all the vicious glee of a lion through his captor's hands.

She was curled up in a ball on the floor, halfway under the couch, not sure whether or not she had made a sound.

She was getting to thoroughly hate thunderstorms she hadn't seen coming.

"Riza?" The mop of black hair suddenly hovering above her asked. "Are you all right?"

She struggled for a moment with her panic and her pride, the desire to not look scared, or goodness forbid silly, in front of this practical-stranger and the desire to get some modicum of protection debated with the simple fact that she must look silly lying on the floor.

"Fine," she finally muttered reluctantly.

He frowned, the expression manifesting as shadows moving across his face, but seemed to accept it. "Did the weather force you down here? It's quite vicious... Aren't your windows solid enough to keep it out?"

She didn't know whether to punch him for insinuating that her house was dilapidated or kiss him for letting the subject go. She settled for sitting up against the couch and hum non-committally. "No, my windows are sound. The rain is just... heavy."

He grunted, possibly disbelievingly, and sat up on the couch. He yawned and rubbed an eye. "So..." another yawn, "do you want to talk or just find a place to curl up and go to sleep? Other than the floor." His mouth curved up in a slight, teasing smile.

"I don't want to keep you up. You have your studies, after all..." She knew she sounded reluctant, and it ate at her, but she would rather have his company now than try to trick herself into thinking she was sound asleep.

"Nevermind those. Master said that he had his own work and wanted to do it tomorrow, so I'll be self-studying."

"Oh... Well, if you're sure you'd rather not be asleep..."

"Let's see," he held up both his hands, preventing to weigh two sides. "Chance to make a new friend, sleep. Odds of an interesting conversation, sleep. Sleep lost both rounds." He tilted his head with an almost apologetic smile.

He was rewarded with an involuntary giggle. "If you insist. I'll go light another candle so we can actually see each other."

He grinned after her as she padded out of the living room, rearranging himself on the couch. Feigning sleep when he heard the staccato patter of her steps on the stairs was one of the best decisions he had made in a long time.

**I was trying to look for some way to wrap this up open by... "She didn't know whether to punch him...", and I think I might have drawn it out a little much.**

**It's... near as makes no difference midnight here, so typos and grammos might litter the chapter, and you mustn't hesitate to point them out to me. That way I might finally learn not to write in the middle of the night.**

**Anyway, yeah, I hope you appreciated my highly poetic thunderstorm (normally, I just go with snoring dragons), because it spooked me out to write.**

**Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. =)**


End file.
